The Fateless
by swimmingcop
Summary: A dormant Ordo Xenos complex on a forgotten world is besieged by the forces of Chaos. Desperate to survive, the token force of Guardsmen defenders look to the dangerous artifacts the Inquisition stored to help them, only to find a pristine suit of armor fit for a space marine. Private Vanic gasped. It moved. (Cancelled and awaiting rewrite. Standby.)
1. That I May Not Falter

_This was wrong. Very wrong. He shouldn't even be here. Sunsingers aren't supposed to end up in this place. The very idea that he found himself in the frozen world was utterly and wholly wrong._

 _Yet here he was. In the Other Side._

 _He got to his feet uncertainly. Okay. This wasn't his mind, it wasn't familiar and it wasn't safe, that much he knew. The land, if it could even be called that, appeared to be a series of floating stone cubes not unlike the Vault of Glass. They were connected by ghostly white bridges of light, and he stepped across them hesitantly._

 _Guardians could be revived by finding their ghosts. He was a sunsinger, and though he felt his powers wane too much to revive himself on his own, maybe if he found his Ghost they could escape together._

 _At least, that's what he told himself, refusing to believe that he'd be stuck here for eternity._

 _He entered a hurried crouch-walk, not daring to move too quickly in case it might disturb the Other Side somehow._

 _..._

 _The Warlock had just finished passing over the fourteenth floating cube when the next one transformed into a Vex Gate. Throwing a glance behind him, he saw the outlines of the other platforms fade away until they became nothing. There was no way out but forward._

 _Even by the Other Side's standards, nothing here was right. Grass that should have been a verdant green was an odd shade of chrome that seemed to change color depending on what angle he looked at it. Vines covered the gate, but they were orderly. Not like the actual vault where they were unkempt and dead for who knew how long, but lively and trimmed. They too were an unnatural color, looking more like gold and platinum._

 _And at the center of the gate sat a lovely flower. A gladiolus, his subconscious told him. Its pistils glowed a soft cerulean, just like his Ghost._

 _Like the rest of the foliage in this place, it wasn't quite right. It still held a soft pink tinge on the edge of its petals, but the rest of it was a solid black and white series of hexagons. All striated and symmetrical. Still, it was the only thing here that didn't reek of stuff that wasn't him. So the Guardian moved forward and touched the flower, hoping it would provide a way out, somehow._

 _"Ghost? You there?" he tried, voice echoing but sounding so small in this cavernous place._

 _Not a sound. He grabbed the flower by the stem and uprooted it swiftly._

 _Just like that, the Vex Gate sputtered to life, but something was wrong, something was very, very wrong._

 _Ordinarily there would be a burst of Light itself and the rushing feeling of coming back to life. At least, that's what happened when he revived himself through Radiance._

 _The gate glowed an ominous red black and gold, and the Guardian, no, Glatisant, that was his name, fell to his knees. His mouth opened in shock but no sound would come out, and he began to feel the Gate work its terrible magic upon him._

 _He tried to fight. Summon his weapons, throw a punch, anything. Nothing would work, and as his arms weakly embraced the ground in a vain attempt to stop his fall, he felt his eyelids grow heavier than ever. Voices whispered in his head, and in his last moments of consciousness, he wasn't even sure if it was from the Other Side or somewhere else._

 _"...Form of daemon..."_

 _"Guardians make their own Fate."_

 _"...Further study...heresy..."_

 _"My name's Lucifer, I didn't expect to see another new Guardian here too!"_

 _"...Assets are to be taken to Aurelia for disposal..."_

 _"Fight the Darkness with your blinding Light," a voice as pure as the Light that he came from encouraged._

 _Mercifully, the voices left him and sleep joined him._

* * *

 _For the longest time, Glatisant slept. A slumber so deep it stole nearly everything from him. His memories, his life, his home... But there were two things it couldn't take; his Ghost, and his Light._

 _He dreamt of a garden full of gladiolus flowers, and for a while everything was peaceful._

* * *

The Sunsinger felt the familiar sensation of all his senses returning to him at once as he returned to life, and immediately regretted it as a cacophony of gunfire and his Ghost's voice assaulted his ears and mind.

 _Guardian? Guardian!_ His otherwise calm Ghost shouted uncharacteristically. Mentally probing back an acknowledgement, he heard the AI's equivalent of a relieved sigh. He wasn't alone and the thought was comforting, even in this cramped, dark space.

 _Thank the Traveler, you're alive. Your neural network is a little scrambled at the moment but I'm working on getting it online. Just hang on._

His senses had come back for the most part, but it didn't come with control over his limbs. He couldn't even crack open his eyes. Had spending so much time in the neural network worn down his very nervous system?

 _Ghost?_ he tried.

 _Relax,_ came the response. _Your mind's been dormant for so long, it isn't used to suddenly being so active._

 _Ouch, right in my self-esteem,_ Glatisant said, pleased that his thoughts weren't as sluggish as his body.

 _Well, we know your sarcasm matrices are fully operational, at least,_ Ghost retorted. _I'm restoring control to your armor and respiratory system, you should be able to breathe again before you, you know, suffocate to death and we do this again._

 _Honestly, I had almost forgotten._

Suddenly acutely aware of how he hadn't taken a breath since waking up and how the growing dark corners of his vision were from oxygen loss, Glatisant could only feel relief as precious oxygen and nitrogen came through his helmet's filter.

And for the first time in many millennia, Warlock Guardian Glatisant breathed in the cold recycled air into lungs that had been dormant for so long.

He took a moment to bask in the feeling of just being alive, so much better than the double-limbo state of being forced asleep in an afterlife world. The feeling of quiet happiness only grew when his HUD came back to life, the armor systems not perturbed in the slightest by the long sleep.

They didn't reveal much, just that he was staring at a dust-covered glass surface not half a foot in front of him and fully encasing himself.

 _So,_ he tried, _what do we do now?_

Behind the glass, the sound of gunfire picked up momentarily before it became muted with the _whoosh_ of a door closing.

* * *

 **A/N: K boys and girls, here we go.**

 **I would like to start off by thanking pizza for allowing me to write this. The food as a concept is what kept me going throughout my darkest days.**

 **And special thanks to user Romans-154, author of Through the Timestream. For allowing me to incorporate elements of his story that the game Destiny itself failed to explain. So thank you very much for that! This story would not have happened without you, and to anyone who hasn't read it and has even the slightest interest in Halo/Destiny/good things in life, give it a read!**

 **As a Human Sunsinger Warlock, Glatisant wears all Legendary Unity Clade gear save for the chestplate which is the Exotic Purifier Robes and the helmet which is Legendary Talion Grace. Uses The Nowhere shader and the Death of Fate Warlock Bond.**

 **Fun fact: Glatisant is the name of a monster from King Arthur mythology.**

 **It is also the name of a level in the Playstation 2 game Ace Combat: Zero. The one where you have to fly through the stormy weather and assault five castles before the timer runs out. Just throwin' that out there in case anyone has played that game and was gonna ask but didn't get up the nerve. Your prayers have been answered.**


	2. That I Will Not Fail

The agricultural world creatively named Abundance was under attack by Chaos forces, and it had been for several hours. To their credit, the local Guardsmen and Planetary Defense Force had managed a furious defense, driving the Warp-cursed forces off the main continent of Solace before they returned.

With a Daemon leading their forces.

11th Armored Division was destroyed by the Daemon itself.

The 65th Taurus infantry regiment was in tatters. All of first through fourth company had been annihilated by the Daemon that lead the incursion. Fifth and sixth had escaped by the skin of their teeth from the merciless assault. Surrounded on all sides, they had no choice but to defend the entrance to the long-abandoned Ordo Xenos bunker located not far from the settlements they had been forced to abandon.

For all Private Mathias Vanic knew, the defenders topside had fallen, and he and what remained of the squads that were hurriedly ushered inside with the order of retrieving something, _anything_ that could stop the coming tide were all that was left.

It was a thought too terrible to consider, and he pushed it to the back of his mind in favor of running.

Surprisingly enough, the corridors were spacious in length and height, and thankfully contained small alcoves every few feet to take cover in. Something that the 2nd squad of 1st platoon only had a brief minute to appreciate before the cultists caught up with them.

There had been six of them to start with. Now it was just two, and who knew where Sergeant Emmeldis was.

Mathias rounded the corner and into a room not a moment too soon, narrowly avoiding having his brains splattered by the slug-throwers these cultists seemed so fond of as his feet skidded across the metal floor.

"You go through there, I'm gonna link up with Sergeant Em-" a bolt of lightning, frakking _psyker lightning_ blasted apart the body of Private Lumen Calden, the last original member of Vanic's squad.

Even with his mind reeling in shock and his friend's blood on his face, Mathias knew the consequences of stopping, and the sound of insane laughter from the heretics only drew closer. Panicking eyes darted across the doorway, settling on a big red button that he palmed immediately.

Sliding closed, the door caused the sounds of the cultists to fade to mere background noise as Mathias ran a hand down his face, trying to wipe away the blood, tears, sweat, and mud that simply became a part of one's face after being in battle for a few minutes.

He was exhausted beyond all measure, terrified of what was to come, and was about to burnout from the feeling of coming off an adrenaline high. All in all, a reasonable reaction for what he had been through.

"Come ooooooooon, Guardsmen! Show us the color of your guts!"

"I'm gonna turn the frakker into mystery meat!"

A sudden _bang_ from the door caused him to jump backwards and raise his lasgun in the door's general direction. No visible damage to the metal door or its frame, but it wasn't exactly a blast door, and those cultists had a psyker among them. He was running out of time.

Turning around, Mathias felt his heart contract at the sight of a small rectangular room with no alternate exit. Panic gripping him, the Guardsman managed to steel himself before moving forward. _The Ordo Xenos must have kept all kinds of secrets in here. Just find something and see if it can help us_ , Lieutenant Redolis had urged him before returning to the defensive line.

He looked around, giving the room a more thorough examination as he edged away from the door, which had grown a fist-shaped impression. The entire left side was bare, save for a banner with a stylized Inquisition 'I' and an ancient cogitator. Its keyboard held so much dust it looked like no one had used it since the Horus Heresy.

The right side of the room was much more interesting.

Pipes and power lines all fed into what was most likely a cryo-chamber of some kind. The tube itself was massive, big enough to house even a Terminator Space Marine. If his childhood memories of seeing the Blood Ravens save his homeworld of Calderis from Orks were correct, then a ten foot tall metal tube was certainly big enough to house one, if only just barely.

He stepped onto the ancient catwalk that connected the steel-gray floor to the cryo-tube, and with his non-bloodied hand, wiped off the layer of dust that had accumulated over time. "By the Emperor!" he shouted.

The being inside was like nothing Mathias had ever seen before.

The Guardsman had fought Eldar, Orks, Chaos, and even the Tau at one point, but none of them looked like this.

Its armor was majestic and regal, there was no other way to describe it. A beautiful silver hawk adorned the upper chest, and a blank visor on an intimidating helm stared downwards at him, reflecting his dumbstruck face. Flowing black and white robes wrapped themselves around the figure, delicate-looking yet Mathias got the impression it was more durable than all the armor on a Leman Russ tank.

But more than anything, the second his fingertips removed the dust from the casket, Mathias felt _alive_. The armor's presence alone radiated an aura of holiness, and seemed to counteract his own growing despair of being trapped by cultists and even the pestilence of Chaos itself with something new. It wasn't the same as a purity seal. It was like a rawer, more pure form of purity.

"Throne," he murmured in awe. This would do, the private realized immediately. Someway, somehow, this armor could turn the tide of the battle on the surface. If he could just get it there-

No, his mind shut that idea down and even the revitalizing aura of the armor couldn't stop his depressing train of thought. _You would have to find the manual release for the pod, there can't be enough power left judging by all the dust. You would have to carry or wear it, and forget that, most Space Marines probably couldn't wear it. Plus, what of the cultists?_

He looked down at the floor, depressed. There wasn't a way out after all.

A soft _crick_ met Mathias's ears, and he looked up dejectedly, and he wondered why he even bothered doing that. Still the same hopeless situation. Another sound, like ice cubes exposed to water appeared, and Mathias looked up in annoyance, only to stare in shock.

Spider-web cracks were forming across the glass casing, arcing across the surface as the suit of armor began to emit its own light, white luminescence spilling into the room. Private Vanic gasped. It moved.

The cogitator on the wall began to act up, lines of text spitting across the screen before its monitor shattered.

The banging on the door ceased momentarily, and Mathias wondered if they were just too flat-out _puzzled_ by what was going on to keep trying to break in. The slow collection of light didn't stop, only accelerating until the glass glowed like an arc light powered by the Emperor himself.

With an ear-splitting whine, the metal bits of the tube burst outwards like a flower in bloom while glass shards flew like shrapnel. Miraculously enough, none had hit him, and when he dared to open his eyes, he saw a sight he would never forget.

* * *

 _The feeling of weakness will pass momentarily, but I can only assume so much time in uh, 'suspension' has caused limited muscle atrophy,_ Ghost advised him as he walked out of the casket.

 _Noted. Any idea as to how I can get that back?_ Glatisant asked back out of curiosity and a slight sense of worry.

 _Same as anyone else, a little exercise goes a long way. Of course, the regenerative properties of being a Guardian helps too,_ Ghost replied, and Glatisant enjoyed a hearty chuckle, the first one in-

 _How long has it been?_ he asked the AI.

 _I do not know,_ it responded truthfully. _Much of my data is out of place and tampered with. But I still have your weapons, and I suspect that to you, that's all that matters._

 _Not everything. But it helps,_ the Warlock replied. The familiar weight of Against All Odds and No Land Beyond was added to his back with Hard Light magnetically holstered to his thigh. Wordlessly, he left the rest of his inventory alone as he looked around, finding nothing but a decorative banner that he instinctively _hated_ for some unknown reason, a scared human, and an almost broken-into door.

 _I suppose there could be worse things to wake up to,_ the Guardian mused before turning to the small human.

"Hel-" he tried before descending into a coughing fit, causing the human to scamper backwards in fear before straightening with that strange dark green and grey rifle leveled right at his chest. A burst of chatter met his ears in an alien tongue, and the little human looked like he had no intentions of stopping anytime soon.

 _Talk to me Ghost,_ the Warlock requested as he brought up a hand to his throat in pain.

 _Something's wrong with your vocal chords. Weird, doesn't look like decay, looks more like someone cut them,_ the Ghost observed.

 _How soon can you repair it?_ he managed as he straightened up and looked the Guardsman dead in the face, prepared to reach for Hard Light in case things became uncivil.

 _Good question, who knows. I'm going to work on fixing you in general. In the meantime, try to play nice. I've also got to figure out what in the name of the Traveler that human is speaking. Certainly not any brand of commontongue I've ever heard of,_ the Ghost muttered more to itself than him before receding into his mind, effectively leaving him alone with the human.

The human seemed to have calmed down at least, his strange rifle in a ready but not firing stance while the Guardian merely maintained his cautious ready-to-fight stance.

The door shuddered with a loud booming noise and both soldiers turned to face it. One corner of it had been blown off the doorframe. Sparing a glance at the other human, who now had his weapon trained on the door, the Guardian made one more check to see if he still had ammo.

Then with one final push, the metal barrier was blasted open, and the Warlock stared for only a moment.

They were grotesque, horrifying impressions of humans. Sunken spots where their eyes used to be, dark red lines from bloody tattoos and a permanent jeer etched onto snarling faces.

They reeked of something evil and something that was definitely the Darkness, especially from those eight-sided tattoos, and the Guardian decided he had seen enough.

* * *

Like everybody else in the stand-off, Mathias had been too shocked by the creature's appearance to fight at first.

Then it snapped up a strange black and aqua rifle like a compact and blockier version of an Eldar Shuriken rifle, and opened fire.

A torrent of electric blue-white shards slammed into the cultists, cutting through unholy flesh and armor in an instant, leaving a pile of corpses where there were once Chaos followers, only for two more to rush through the door, angry and bloodthirsty as ever.

Not giving any indication of surprise, the tall creature gunned one down before the exotic rifle disappeared, and its fist curled into a ball of orange light to rival to the sun.

The last cultist froze at the sight, as though confronted with something even scarier than a ten-foot tall possible psyker. He brought up his hands and shot out a bolt of purple Warp-lightning with a grin, only for the devastating attack to merely fizzle against the armor, the bird of prey seal refusing to falter.

As if angered by the attack the uninjured juggernaut surged forward, grabbing the screaming psyker cultist by the throat, _squeezing_ until the psyker's tortured noises were no more, and to Mathias's shock, his entire body caught fire, incinerating itself into ashes in seconds.

Releasing its clenched grip the remains drifted to the ground like snowflakes, and the massive warrior raised its rifle again, checking both sides of the corridor outside before beckoning for him to follow.

"You want me to go with you?" he asked dumbly, still in shock from almost dying twice in the past three minutes as the armor gave an exasperated shrug and motioned him forward before disappearing the way Mathias had come from. Unsure whether to curse his luck or thank the Emperor, he followed.

Exiting the right hallway, Mathias's eyes squinted in the comparatively dim hallways now that that thing's brilliant light had faded away. Catching sight of its glowing white armband as the towering figure disappeared down another one of the labyrinth-like corridors, Mathias gave a cursory check to his lasgun's charge before sprinting after him.

* * *

The Darkness itself was rolling off these abominable creatures like heat from an oven, but it didn't deter the Guardian. He dodged their primitive solid slug weaponry, his shields deflected their strange magical attacks, and all the while he was retaliating with all the Light the Traveler bestowed upon him.

The Sunsinger sent a fist charged with Light itself into the abdomen of another servant of Darkness, and the malformed man fell to the solar energy, succumbing to the Traveler's magic as his ashes were blasted across the walls.

 _When you're not too busy, I'd like to know why the Darkness is infesting humans, please._ Glatisant said irritably as he backhanded another cultist, snapping his neck against the wall and leaving a burn mark where the Light had touched the corrupted human.

 _I'm working on a lot of things right now,_ his Ghost bit back, _but from what I can tell, the connection they have to the Darkness is voluntary. They gave themselves over to it by choice,_ Ghost uttered in slight shock, causing the Guardian to pause momentarily to contemplate that.

 _What in the fuck._

 _It makes little sense to me either, especially since we can clearly see there are at least some humans who don't give in to it._

The non-Darkness tainted human was still following him, but Glatisant wasn't too worried about him. If anything he now felt a slight sense of pity towards the obviously inept soldier. He wore baggy desert-brown pants, combat boots, and green armor that looked like it was fit for quelling small-scale riots and not much else.

Being under-equipped and facing hostiles with no chance of winning was a pain the Guardian didn't wish on allies. Traveler knew he'd been like that for too long.

 _Right. Do any of our major systems work? Like for example, a map?_ he tried hopefully.

 _No,_ Ghost shot down, _not unless you want to see the corridors you've already traversed. I can't even tell what planet we're on._

 _I don't know either. I also expect you to have a plan for synthesizing ammunition for me, since these things don't seem to drop any,_ he replied, flicking eyes between the ammo counter and the cultists in front of him.

 _Yes, that is something that we've been taking for granted. At least I can extract Orbs of Light from them, however small. I'll see what I can do about the ammo situation, but no promises. For now just use your Ammo Synthesis, but keep a few alone. I'd like to see if I can manufacture new ones.  
_

 _Holding you to that._

 _I said no promises!_ Ghost chided as he merely grinned wolfishly.

The last cultist fell to the ground with a smoldering hole in his bare chest, courtesy of the strange laser gun that his companion wielded. Tossing back a nod of thanks, the Guardian pressed on, walking through the corridors, each one as identical as the last.

 _Do you know where you're going?_ Ghost questioned.

 _Not really, but logically if we keep walking we'll eventually find the exit,_ Glatisant explained.

 _If only your companion could help you with that,_ Ghost mused. _Speaking of, still no luck on translating what he's saying. So much of it is wrong, like bastardized commontongue mixed with ancient pre-Traveler Earth languages._

 _You can't fly out here and extract the data from his brain in a stream of light and strange sounds?_ he asked humorously.

 _ **NO.**_ Ghost transmitted forcefully through the neural network. _I don't dare to appear outside your armor._ _By the Traveler, you're a Sunsinger. Can't you feel this new type of Darkness pressing in on all sides of us? It's like we're the only source of Light on this planet._

Glatisant shuddered involuntarily at the reminder. There were no lies in that, the Darkness in here wasn't overpowering like the tunnels beneath the Moon, where Crota had made his home. It was the fact that it felt _off_ from the normal Darkness that made it so unnerving.

He had always assumed the Darkness was a sort of sentient force of nature, but these shambling abominations radiated their own brand of power. Like someone had taken all the worst, most horrific qualities of the universe and blended it with the Darkness. Weaponized an already inherently evil form of energy that permeated everything.

Except Guardians. Those born in the Light of the Traveler itself did not falter so easily, and the Warlock was no exception, as the not-quite Darkness recoiled from his presence.

 _Yes, I can feel it,_ he assured his Ghost.

 _We're still lost though,_ he began, trying to change the subject that had unnerved his Ghost. _Is there anything you can do to scan ahead?_

 _Yes, but that only allows me to find- wait. New contact ahead, down this tunnel and to your left, It's a big room of some kind. Possibly an exit,_ Ghost advised.

Glatisant hugged the wall, the human behind him copying his movements. Just as he got to the edge however, a massive explosive bullet exploded against his head.

* * *

Kurouth's maw twisted into a grin behind his helmet. The Black Legion Chaos Marine had killed something new. It looked like this mission to chase Guardsmen through the Inquisition's broom closet wouldn't be so boring after all.

He advanced slowly, bolter not wavering from the combination of genetic and chaos-enhanced muscles that kept it steady. Whatever he shot must have been the source of his headache, the pain only growing as he approached.

The Chaos Marine's eye slits cast a red glow across the floor as his visor swept back and forth for targets-

-when suddenly a massive black and white shape burst through the air and practically flew all the way to the other side of the room.

The newcomer was up and running immediately, firing with a strange rifle that seemed to tear at his armor like a razor blade to paper, peppering it with holes. Kurouth roared in defiance and anger, squeezing the firing stud on the bolter.

 **"YOUR SLAVERY TO THE FALSE EMPEROR ENDS HERE!"** he boomed.

.75 caliber explosive shells rained around the surprisingly lithe _thing_ as it weaved in and out of the fire, its robes seemingly unharmed by the barrage. Kurouth was about to fire again when he felt a prickly sensation at the back of his spine before he felt an uncomfortable heat. He growled as he looked back, seeing a scared-looking Guardsman with a smoking lasgun.

The pathetic whelp would die second. There was something to deal with first, as he made the motion of turning back around.

But in doing so, he had made the fatal mistake of making himself an easy target for the Guardian.

The creature of Light leapt into the air and slammed both fists onto the back of his head, making the Chaos Marine fall flat to the ground. He managed to roll over, reaching for his chainsword when the Warlock pounced onto his unguarded chest, and raised a fist.

The entire room was bathed with golden light as a ball of energy formed in his attacker's hands—himself glowing that same shade of sunlight all over his body. It caused Kurouth's skin to bubble beneath his armor and his vision to grow dark as he witnessed the Guardian raise his hands and the sphere.

 **"YOU DARE-"** Kurouth exclaimed before it plunged the Light into his chest.

Kurouth had died many times before in battle. It was all the same after a while though. A few days or centuries in the Warp later and he was right back to wanton murder, typically on an Imperial world.

This time, as a presence unlike any other blazed through his armor and his skin, Kurouth felt his very existence begin to fray at the seams. His dying howls faded away for the last time as he was erased from both the physical and the immaterial realms permanently, and a pulse of pure Light burst from his corpse.

* * *

Sergeant Rehmer's flak jacket felt the impact of two bullets from a pair of stub gun wielded cultists. He backed away slightly from the impact before planting a boot firmly into the ground to steady himself, retaliating with a triple flash of lasers from his lasgun.

"How much time?!" He yelled at Corporal Wilheim, not needing to elaborate his question.

"6th company's second platoon'll be here in five minutes! No word on the squads we sent inside the structure!" Wilheim yelled back, ducking as a bolter shell flew overhead.

"Concentrate fire on that Marine, right flank!" Rehmer ordered as every Guardsman within earshot immediately took heed. A veritable wall of laser fire splashed against the marine, and even its unholy armor couldn't save it from the sheer weight of fire.

It was not without costs, however. Sergeant Kjel fell victim to a well-aimed bullet from a cultist before he could squeeze off a shot, and Private Styrson was the unfortunate victim of the next burst of bolter fire, tearing apart him and part of the barricade.

Rehmer cursed, Kjel was the only person truly holding the left side of the east wall together. Without him, the Chaos forces were going to overrun the defensive line, and then it'd all be over.

"Sir! Sniper's have spotted-" Wilheim began to shout over the din of gunfire as he held the vox-caster, and what little color his face held drained completely.

"What?" Rehmer demanded worriedly. Wilheim had served with him for four years, longer than anyone else in possibly the entire Regiment. He didn't crack under pressure or gunfire easily.

"They've sighted the Daemon sir. It's a Daemonic Herald of Khorne."

For all his years of training and experience, Rehmer felt very small, and very helpless. "Emperor preserve us," he said fearfully as the gunfire from his side of the wall suddenly seemed like it just wasn't enough. If they had tanks, Space Marines, something, they might have stood a chance. But as it was they'd be lucky to survive another ten minutes, he realized.

Like all Guardsmen, Rehmer worshipped the Emperor with all his heart, but he didn't pray for help very often. At a time like this though, desperation was all they had, and he knelt down, clasping the stock of his lasgun in prayer.

"Emperor, please. If you're watching over us, we need a miracle right now. I beg of you." the gruff sergeant spoke softly, reverently. His words were lost to the chaotic noise of the battlefield when a grenade blew apart some of the barricades, and when he lifted his head, nothing had changed.

Resigning himself to his fate, he aimed the lasgun into the crowd of approaching enemies, only for the Chaos forces to pause in their advance.

A transparent ripple spread through the air so quickly if he had blinked he wouldn't have seen it. As it passed by he felt reinvigorated, strong enough to take on even the coming Daemon.

With newfound strength in his limbs he gripped the lasgun tighter, sending a controlled volley into the confused cultists who looked around as if uncertain. Soon enough, every Guardsman had followed his example and lasers poured into the advance, burning brighter than ever before.

A voice made itself heard in Rehmer's mind, but between his new vigor and the battle, he barely noticed it.

 _It will be cold and harrowing,_ he blew off the head of a cultist taking aim at Corporal Cross.

 _And we will not all survive,_ a traitor Marine stumbled backwards, armor twisted and melted from lasers.

 _But it must be done, and we will not falter!_ The voice declared as the tide began to turn.

Despite being surrounded, every Guardsman from those manning the walls to the snipers perched atop the bunker itself felt the presence of the one thing that made any soldier anywhere fight harder and even win against all odds.

Hope.

* * *

 **A/N: If you're wondering, that voice is speaking the flavor text from the Oblivion armor's boots, with a little twist at the end from me.  
**

 **Thanks for the reviews, Eipok and Engelbart! A little encouragement goes a long way, as the Guardsmen on Abundance will soon learn. I love to write, and especially when people enjoy it, so expect the next chapter soon!**

 **Oh right, and I own nothing in here at all, from Destiny to Warhammer. If I did I'd be a lot richer but hey, we'll always have fanfics at least. :)**

 **Tune in next time where the Guardian faces off against all the horrors Chaos can bring to bear!**

 **Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing it, Swimmingcop**


	3. That I May Not Perish

**A/N: Hello everybody! First off I'd like to thank everyone who's read this story and decided to stick around this far. And thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it when people tell me what they think of my work.**

 **Speaking of reviews, since I don't have too much to say let's go over them.**

 **Hellscream: The Emperor and The Traveler both existed at different intervals, and that's basically all that is currently known at this time. As the story progresses I will elaborate and answer these questions in a way that I hope will be satisfactory.**

 **Haloholic: I'm very glad to see you enjoyed the story, but I wrote two chapters in two days, and honestly I don't know any fics that update faster than that. I'll keep writing, don't worry, but I may not be able to update so fast.**

 **Eipok: Thanks for your feedback, and now to address the height thing; I'm going to go further in-depth as to why he's that tall, but as I may have mentioned since Destiny's lore is kinda sparse, I borrowed elements from user Romans-154's story about Destiny. Further details will be released in due time, for now, all I can say is that it will be explained as the story progresses. I still have a lot of ideas that I've yet to fully flesh out due to there only being two, now three chapters, so most people's questions in the reviews were already planned to be answered, just in later chapters.**

 **You'll get your explanation though, don't worry.**

 **And thanks for the kind words, fluffy one. I appreciate it.**

 **Anyways, enough of that, time for some grimness and darkness and strawberry shortcake. Everyone's clamoring for it.**

* * *

The ground quaked beneath the Blood Throne's wheels. The hellish chariot bounced across the dry land as Ga'rix, the Scourge of Korianis charged into battle.

Fighting for this mudball of a planet had been raging for one full day, and almost all resistance had been crushed by his advance. Only two places yet remained, one was a besieged city that was beginning to succumb to his force's superior numbers. The other was some kind of underground outpost.

Just another poorly-staffed base facing off against him, like countless worlds before. The Daemon had pondered leaving it to the local cultists to finish off—until the situation changed.

Something strong was originating from there. Something that had drawn his attention away from the last defended city on the continent and towards this comparatively smaller base. A wave of energy that seemed to erode at the Chaos that sustained the Daemon, making him shiver—if only for a second.

Ga'rix had felt its effects, just as many of his underling Bloodletters had. Some had complained of headaches, that they should find another post to assault. He had decapitated them with his hellblade. Let the cowards spend a few centuries wandering the Warp as punishment, he had no time for their nonsense.

The spawn of Khorne gave off a feral grin as his chariot crested the last hill, seeing nothing but an open expanse of desert rocks and dead grass for miles. And at the center of it was a crumbling fort filled with Guardsmen.

Ga'rix ignored the sickly odor of holiness that it seemed to radiate. It hadn't saved the civilians who cowered in chapels and prayed to the Emperor, nor the Space Marines who believed their blessed battle standards protected them from him. Who were these miscreants to believe otherwise?

His grotesque tongue lapped his lips in anticipation. Even out here, he could smell their souls, ripe for the taking. They smelled delicious.

* * *

The exit to the prison was right behind the dead Marine. a set of blast doors with those same annoying skeletons with an 'I' going through them. Maybe they were imbued with some form of magic, because Glatisant couldn't fathom any other reason why he felt so angered when he looked at them.

 _So how do we get out of here? Do we 'waken the Hive' while you slowly open the door and I hold off waves of Fallen or something?_ he asked lightheartedly.

 _Ha ha,_ Ghost fake-laughed. _Humor aside, I can't seem to get the doors to open. They operate on some unknown form of ancient communication protocols. I'm trying to make my systems compatible but we'll see._

 _What's our human doing?_ the Warlock asked as the Guardsman walked up the ramp to a small grate-like circle on the wall next to the door.

 _Logically, it's some kind of communication system, and he's trying to communicate with whomever is outside,_ Ghost deduced as the human began speaking his gibberish language into the primitive communications device.

 _Where exactly is outside?_

 _Answer still hasn't changed, I don't know. But I have some ideas, and you're not going to like them._

 _Why? Is it too spooky for me?_

 _This is serious, Guardian,_ Ghost returned ominously as the Guardian went through the motions of checking his weapons.

 _Fine, what is it?_

 _I can't feel the Traveler's presence. I don't see any other Guardians or their Ghosts. Glatisant..._ Ghost said, sounding like his synthetic voice might crack, _...I think we're all alone._

Everything seemed to quiet at that, even the Guardsman falling silent as he awaited a reply. The Sunsinger began to get a dizzying sense of perspective as he fully comprehended the fact that he and his Ghost were completely and utterly _alone._ Maybe they were even the only sources of Light in this entire galaxy.

 _Guardian, I don't know what we're going to do,_ the always-wise, knowing voice of his Ghost shattered, sounding more defeated than it ever had.

 _We'll fight the Darkness, and we'll make it home. I promise,_ the Guardian vowed as he felt his partner's terror wane at the declaration.

There were a few tense moments where nothing was heard but a distant sound of battle, probably from outside, and the static from the wall-mounted device.

 _Okay,_ Ghost said, regaining its composure. _Then first things first; we need to get out of here._

 _Looks like our friend has that covered,_ Glatisant grinned in relief as both his Ghost calmed down and the door began to shift. Gears as tall as him churned beneath his feet as the skulls slid apart, to reveal a quartet of humans armored just like his companion. All of them were aiming guns at him.

* * *

"Wait! Stop! He's with me!" Mathias urged the troopers in front of him.

One of them, a corporal, cocked his head at him without moving his lasgun an inch. "What in Terra do you mean by that, exactly?" he asked cautiously.

"He... it, whatever, helped me. We've been killing cultists and fighting our way out of here. He killed a Chaos Marine!" Mathias pleaded, hoping they would listen.

A Guardsman snorted, "Load of shite. Stand aside unless you want to get blown the frak apart, Vanic."

"Look, you imbeciles!" Mathias hissed, gesturing behind him.

"Holy frak," the corporal whispered. The still-warm body of the dead Chaos Space Marine looked like someone had held him in front of a flamer for far, far too long. Its armor was blackened in all places and the perpetual red glow of its helm was now dimmed. An entire chunk had been taken out of the midsection, exposing charred organs and a river of blood.

"He did that? By himself?" another Guardsman asked shakily, realizing the danger that the imposing figure presented.

Mathias made a display of rolling his eyes. "No, I killed the damned thing by myself, using only a lasgun and my bravery. Now for the Emperor's sake, let us through. Do you really think that if one of those couldn't stop him, five of us will?"

They milled uncertainly at that until the creature took a stride forward, stepping into the sunlight. It looked up at the clear blue sky briefly, then down to the Guardsmen before it gave a mechanical sounding sigh and nodded towards the sound of gunfire.

"I believe it wants to help us, or at the very least, fight the cultists," Mathias continued as it began to climb on top of the bunker that their commanding officers and snipers were positioned.

"Uh-oh," the corporal said.

* * *

On top of the bunker, the Guardian was face to face with about twelve or so Guardsman, who were either giving him shocked looks or pointing a lasgun at his chest.

"I'm only saying this because you've yet to enter hostilities, and it's been a long day," Lieutenant Redolis said slowly, "But if you don't tell me who you are and what you're doing I will frakking _end_ you."

"Sir, wait!" Redolis frowned. He recognized that voice, wasn't that one of the Guardsmen he sent into the complex...?

Confirming his belief, Mathias ascended the ladder on the side of the bunker, scrambling to a salute as he continued to talk. "That thing's been helping me kill cultists throughout the Inquisition base, sir. Whatever he is, I don't think he's against us."

A booming noise made them stumble backwards as the humanoid creature fired a huge rifle as long as the Guardsmen were tall. It cycled the bolt, chambering a new round as it reacquired a new target, killing two Chaos Space Marines that were leading a charge in the span of around three seconds.

They only stared in shock only briefly, the battlefield was a constant jarring reminder of reality.

"Fine, I suppose we'll have to substitute dying here with dying at the hands of the Inquisition for heresy. I'm not sure what I expected when I told you to find something to help us," Redolis decided, his gaze moving across the almost alien figure.

"If you kill any of my men, I will gut you, understand?" he threatened as the Guardian fired off another shot, felling a column of cultists, not giving any verbal response.

"I suppose that's as close as we can get to a 'yes', but we've got bigger issues right now," Zeldar, one of Redolis' snipers said, nudging his long-las to point at something. Mathias, Redolis, and the corporal from earlier who climbed onto the bunker turned to look.

It was a Blood Throne chariot, thundering down to meet them. Mathias felt his blood run cold; he had heard stories of what that meant. Only artillery or Daemonic Heralds rode those, and that Daemon riding it definitely looked like the Bloodletters he had been told rumors about in training.

The Guardian suddenly leapt into the air and flew towards the trenches towards the Daemon, and somehow Mathias felt a lot braver. He ejected the power pack and slammed a new one in, then followed once more.

* * *

Lord of Wolves barked many times in rapid succession. Each time it released a burst of Solar Energy into the Chaos forces, rending flesh and armor in searing heat as the Guardian did a somersault to avoid a small purple tornado of lightning that they flung at him.

 _What was that?_ he asked, blasting the psyker who sent it at him with the Exotic shotgun.

 _Unsure, it appears to be a weaponized form of this new Darkness,_ Ghost analyzed. _I'm very worried about it, by the way._

 _The new Darkness? What of it?_ Glatisant asked as he downed five cultists before slamming a fist into another, the abomination bursting into flames.

 _It's hard to explain how,_ the Ghost said enigmatically. _But I do know that dying to these things would be like getting killed by Atheon or Crota._

Lord of Wolves went away, replaced by Hard Light as Glatisant knelt down in the trench, his head barely being covered by the dirt.

 _Permanent death?_ he asked, ignoring the staring Guardsman next to him as he mowed down droves of enemies.

 _Permanent death,_ Ghost affirmed.

 _Well that makes me feel awfully silly, you know. My entire life's primary ability is now completely nullified by even these things._

 _Hm? Oh no, not them,_ Ghost elaborated, _those shambling creatures don't have anywhere near enough Darkness to stop you. I'm saying that if you faced a creature using a sufficient amount of this kind of Darkness, it could kill you forever. Your Radiance may be able to bring you back, but I wouldn't be able to._

 _In that case, how is it any different to when we were back home?_ he asked, the mentioning of how far away they actually were causing him to get a little sick.

 _Because it took powerful entities to kill Guardians. The Hive called Crota a god. I'm fairly certain Atheon was a nearly successful attempt at burning the Vex into space-time itself. No amount of these lesser creatures could stop you forever, in combat or in death,_ Ghost explained while Glatisant listened patiently, only interrupting with the occasional burst of rifle fire.

 _But if there was one with enough of this mutated Darkness, it could kill you permanently. It wouldn't even have to be something hugely powerful like Atheon and Crota. Traveler's sake, for all we know even the most fragile of creatures could hold that much of this kind of Darkness!_

A sudden screeching sound filled the air, which became unbearably hot. Turning his gaze towards the front lines, Glatisant saw a cart pulled by a pair of vaguely humanoid creatures. They were almost as tall as him, and had blood red skin that struggled to stretch over the thing's body, broken up only by yellow lesions and complete with demonic horns and claws.

And atop the chariot itself was a much taller version of them that seemed to generate an aura of perverted Darkness.

 _Doesn't look like a very fragile creature to me,_ he noted as he vaulted over the trenches.

Lasguns on both sides of him fired so quickly they were more like a river of photons than a series of shots, creating a corridor with Glatisant at one end and three Bloodletters, one of them a Herald at the opposite side.

The senior Daemon let loose a cackling laugh that made Glatisant hesitate before his Light repelled the sensation.

" _And what of you, oh holy creature?_ " it mocked. " _Do you think yourself so blinded by your faith that you can best me? I. Am. Ga'rix! Herald of Khorne! Scourge of the Korianis sector! Many of your fellow Blood Ravens have fallen before me, and so shall you!_ "

It leveled its hellblade at him in challenge while internally, the Guardian was having a mental debate with his companion.

 _What did any of that mean._ He said impassively.

 _I honestly don't know what he said at all, Guardian. Still working on the translator, after all. It's coming along nicely, since you asked,_ Ghost replied. _But that thing's certainly got enough Darkness that I can't revive you if you die to it, and it isn't friendly._

 _Right. So don't die, basically. Sound advice,_ he said as the Ghost sighed.

 _Just be careful. I don't know what those things can do._

Hard Light was in his hands faster than they could blink, and discharging shots not a millisecond after. The first monster went down with at least fifteen new openings in its chest, but the second one moved its back, dodging the flechettes before it got hit. Its muscular legs made it bound across the dry dirt, and its sword clashed with his armguards.

All the while, Ga'rix stood atop the Blood Throne, watching in amusement.

The creature attempted to press its advantage, shifting both its hands onto the sword along with more weight, but Glatisant hadn't killed Crota by being an idiot.

The Guardian sent a sweeping kick into the thing's knees, dropping it to the ground and releasing its cursed sword from his arms. As it did he charged his right fist with solar energy, and drove it into the Daemon's skull and all the way through its brain, or whatever these things had in their heads.

It spasmed only for a moment before flames overtook its body and it succumbed to the Light. The last Bloodletter made a clicking noise with its oversized jaw before jumping to the ground, cracking the parched soil. " _So be it. Prepare yourself,_ " it warned before darting forwards, hellblade held high.

The Guardian sidestepped and began to backpedal, not anticipating the hurricane of blows. He parried and blocked every strike with Lord of Wolves' stock or his bracers, but he wasn't an Exo or a Titan, a master of martial arts. Glatisant was unable to land a hit of his own, fully occupied by blocking every attack of the Daemon.

He spied an opening as the Herald took just a sliver of a second too long to raise his sword for a powerful overhead strike. The Warlock dove to the right, ducking to avoid the sword swing as he fired Solar Energy from his shotgun while slamming a Light-infused palm into the thing's spine.

The results were devastating, and it stumbled forwards as he took the time to send another burst of fiery shells from his special weapon before the Daemon whipped around, snarling with its ridiculously long tongue.

" _You are strong, holy one,_ " it said, no longer mocking, but still speaking in a hateful, grating tone. The Daemon ignored the constant pings of lasgun fire that its back was receiving as it edged closer to him. " _But I am stronger._ "

Glatisant's fists were wreathed in fire as he brought both of them up, this time going on the offensive as the Herald of Khorne tried its tactic of overwhelming him with piercing strikes. Solar-charged fist met hellblade in a shower of sparks and smoke as the pair fought furiously, unaware of the war raging around them.

Another overhead strike, this time much faster. Glatisant's Light-reinforced hands gripped it by the blade, unharmed by its unworldly edge. Yet as he prepared to throw it to the side and send the Daemon off-balance, he looked up and found there was no one holding the sword at all.

He realized something was wrong a second too late, as the 2-meter long sword disappeared from his hands. It went straight through his side, piercing the reinforced weave, then his heart and lungs. The teleporting Daemon standing behind him and forcing the blade down.

He dared to gasp, breath catching in his throat and he coughed, spraying blood into the inside of his visor before the searing pain was too much. White liquid pooled at his feet and coated both ends of the hellblade that had impaled him. Light. He was losing his Light...

The sword twisted violently and Glatisant's spine snapped. He fell to the ground, dead.

* * *

 _The Other Side. Again._

 _At least he wasn't in the Vault of Glass this time._

 _The Warlock was already standing, knee-deep in a pool of black liquid, and he jumped out of it instinctively. It was as slick as oil and just as dark, forming a small pool in the place where he had woken up._

 _He observed his surroundings; the sky was gunmetal gray, and the ground was shifting between unnatural metal plates and rock that looked like it was made of cloudy crystals. Eyes settling back on the pool of blackness that was certainly not water, his gaze followed the stream that it flowed from, going uphill a ways._

 _Seeing the rest of the 'landscape' was nothing but the same rocks and metal being repeated over and over again, like a single texture in a videogame, he opted to follow the stream._

 _..._

 _It was the second time he'd been in the Other Side, and currently the longest amount of time by far._

 _His feet began to grow tired, why did he feel tired? That wasn't normal._

 _He almost slapped himself on the forehead for that. Of course it wasn't normal. Six Guardians killing Atheon then dancing on his corpse wasn't normal. A Sunsinger in the Other Side was close to incomprehensible, like saying red was blue.  
_

 _Yet here he was. In the Other Side._

 _His thoughts went away when he encountered the source of the river, though._

 _It was him. The Traveler-damned creature was standing in front of him like he was some kind of trophy, the Guardsmen in the trenches not five feet away from the Daemon staring at the spectacle. Shock and fear were clearly written on their faces, terrified by the forsaken creature._

 _With a start, he realized it was moving, however slowly. It was bringing its sword up from its side, limbs moving like the air was made of a thick syrup._

 _Glatisant searched for the gladiolus, finding only a small stem of one growing from his corpse's chest. He cursed, somehow he knew without touching it that it wasn't enough to revive him. Ghost was right, permanent death. Maybe even this part of the Other Side would cease to exist and he'd either be alone or dead forever._

 _The thought sent him staring blankly at the ground uncomprehendingly, falling to his knees before his hands clenched into fists._

 _"NO." A voice that was both his and someone else's thundered._

 _His feet pushed him off the ground, glaring at the creature that believed it could kill him._

 _"I AM AN AVATAR OF THE TRAVELER," he boomed, voice making the ground tremble as time seemed to freeze in the real world and the Other Side._

 _"I KILLED A HIVE GOD IN HIS HOME," particles of light began to flow into his robes, and the super energy meter began to fill._

 _"I REWROTE THE LAWS OF SPACE AND TIME TO SLAY TIME'S CONFLUX," the super energy bar was fully charged, and he was glowing with light, warping the surrounding area._

 _"I... AM A GUARDIAN!" he proclaimed, and with a burst of energy, he re-entered the world._

* * *

They'd watched it happen. Watched their last true hope die with a sword in its gut. Watched his lifeless body slide to the ground even as Mathias ordered people far above his own rank to open fire, lasers doing little more than annoy the unholy beast.

Not so long ago, he and the squad that met him at the gate had charged to the trenches, providing covering fire for the otherworldly but pure creature. More than one cultist and even a lesser Daemon had met their ends at the hands of the squad. They had made the last mistake of their damned lives when they made a move to go after the Guardian.

Corporal Adrian Gault's three-man squad had taken him on, and hasty introductions to the other three privates were in order. Nir, Jilke, and Dauben. There was no need for telling last names in a place where they could die any second. The reinforced squad of Guardsmen had formed a hasty defense centered around the Guardian, all the while trying to repel the assault.

They had been so successful, even looking like they might have made it out after all, when everything fell apart.

Nir and Jilke took stubber rounds to the head, brains exploding against the insides of their helmets. Mathias had a leg torn open by a ricochet slug, and Gault was dragging him back to safety while Dauben covered them when the Guardian died.

Ga'rix hooted in joy as his legs curled around the trench wall, and drove his sword into the mouth of Dauben, the man screaming and choking on his blood as he died. The Daemon turned its murderous gaze towards Mathias and lifted its blade-

-and unbelievably fast, the Guardian wrenched the sword from its grasp and drove the Light-stained edge into the Daemon's back.

Ga'rix screamed, a sound that carried over the entire base and making everyone from the cultists to the Guardsmen turn to the source. The Daemon Herald was bodily lifted into the air, and the hellblade began to glow, the white blood blasting Light in every direction, blinding those who looked.

When the screams faded away to nothing and Mathias dared to open his eyes, he found himself looking at the Guardian, alive and glowing orange with the same light he used to kill the Chaos Space Marine. Holding a massive pure-white sword that lacked the jagged and irregular edges of the hellblade. Now a clear-cut broadsword that gleamed proudly in the sunlight.

Without skipping a beat, he cut a swathe of cultists with one hand while firing the electric automatic rifle in the other.

* * *

In the Warp, Khorne felt a sharp pang in his very existence.

He didn't have a body, just a general presence that was Him.

Shaking it off as quickly as it had arrived, the Chaos God surveyed his domain, scouring for the source. He rose from the Skull Throne, and took a walk. There was something new in the Warp. A presence that had no business in this place. It promised order, and peace, and purity, and a power to back up those promises.

Khorne was going to rip it apart and feast on its entrails.

* * *

Far away, elsewhere in the Warp, an entity awoke. It had not died, merely become dormant as it recuperated over time. But much like the Guardian that awoke it, its own long sleep was over. The primordial being was awake, and it had business to take care of.

* * *

 **A/N: And there we go. Set up a good intro, check. Introduce some characters and the setting, check. Some shock of the universe's inhabitants reacting to the other crossover's abilities and presto, you have a fanfic!**

 **I'm amazed by the support all of you have given me, readers, and I hope to return the favor by writing more.**

 **For anyone curious, this story will be split into Arcs, each one focusing around a thing until the thing is done. Yeah.**

 **Hope I'll see you again next week! If you'd like. review or send me a message, I read all of them and I'm thankful for all that I get. Thank you for reading.**

 **And once again, shoutout to "Through the Timestream" by Romans-154. Excellent story by all standards, and I encourage you to read it. Have a nice day everyone!**


	4. That I Will Never Darken

**A/N: Hey hey everyone, welcome back! This is another chapter of Arc 1. When I finish the arc entirely (You'll know when) then I'll take a break. Maybe a month, maybe a week, depends on how motivated I am. Hard to write when you can't think of why you want to write or what you want to write.**

 **Review time! Reviews are like crack to me, by the way. Can't have too much of them. Keep sending 'em in if you can!**

 **Guest: Thanks man, glad you're enjoying the ride so far. I got big plans for it, so stay tuned!**

 **1990: Kinda hard for me to make sense of your review (no offense) but I already talked about the height issue. See last chapter's author's notes section.**

 **hellscream: Yeah no problem, and we might be seeing some of those things, might not. I've already got the general script for the story written, just need to write all the chapters and the specifics.**

 **Now that we got that out of the way, time for some story! Gather 'round, motherfuckers. Swimmingcop is going to tell ya'll some tales from the grimmest and darkest of places.**

* * *

 _Some years ago_

 _The back of the Valkyrie was cramped, but that was a standard for pretty much every military vehicle ever made, Mathias mused. It probably didn't help it was filled to capacity with Guardsmen._

 _He was shoulder to shoulder with all the other Guardsmen, and for the entire ride, he was afraid that someone would bump into him and the lasgun in his arms would go off. Emperor knew it wouldn't take much with so many people shuffling against one another, trying to stay steady in the turbulence._

 _At least he had gotten on first and reserved a seat._

 _"Well, here we go. First real battle, not just glorified police work on some Hive world. You ready?" his only friend, Lumen asked._

 _"I think the only valid answer here is 'no one's ever ready.' Can't know until we get to the LZ though," Mathias reflected glumly._

 _"Come off it, I didn't sign up to deal with your negativity," Lumen said, his voice not losing an ounce of cheerfulness._

 _"That's right, no one signed up. We got conscripted."_

 _Mathias felt his fists clench at that. Finger off the trigger, basic safety. His parents had always complained about his temper, and when the Ministorum came to fill the quota of Guardsmen needed for combat elsewhere, he didn't say anything. Just threw a hate-filled look at his mother when she signed his name on their thrice-damned list._

 _"Speak for yourself," Lumen said, trying and failing to stretch his legs in the cramped space at a faux attempt at relaxation. "I signed up," he added, enjoying the look of shock on Mathias' face._

 _"Why. Why would you do that to yourself?" Mathias gaped in awe at the man who was many magnitudes too cheery for any kind of war._

 _"Because I wanted to see the world, meet interesting people... and if you've lived on the lower levels of the Hive worlds without a home, you'd know you either join the gangers and die in two years, or the Guard."_

 _That was some of the most flawed logic Mathias had ever heard of, and he had been there when Commisar Hoffkit had pistol-whipped a wounded Guardsman for refusing to fight while the rest of the unit was quelling a riot. He had died from shock not two hours later._

 _"As opposed to the Imperial Guard," he gritted, letting his irritation show. "Where you're expected to live a long life and retire to some quiet Agri-world and live on a cottage for the rest of your life."_

 _"I don't think you're getting the point," Lumen said quietly as he shifted to face him, lasgun poking another soldier and eliciting a "sorry" from the private. "I could have lived another few hellish years in a cesspit, killing a Guardsman who didn't want to be the one to go into combat during a purge or something, or I could become one. And maybe then I could, I don't know, save someone or serve the Emperor in a better way than a parasite."_

 _"Was it that bad down there?" Mathias asked, pondering exactly how horrible life would be in a destitute part of a Hive._

 _"Remember that old vid we saw on the holo-projector during training? The one corporal Gead Emmeldis brought?" Lumen asked lowly, not letting his voice be heard by the pair of sergeants that were pushing their way through the crowd._

 _A rumble shook the entire craft as the pilots threw it violently to the side, and the relieving phrase "missile evaded" was heard.  
_

 _"Yes, what of it?" Mathias answered._

 _"It was like the scene where the Cadian was running down the alley and he found the woman who was eating her child since she had nothing else for so long."_

 _"...I don't know how to answer."_

 _"Good because there isn't really a 'valid answer.' Worst part is, that was one of the more tame parts of life down there, things got a lot worse," Lumen reflected, rubbing his forearms as though remembering something._

 _There was silence for a while, broken up only by the south of equipment shifting as Guardsmen wiped the sweat off of them or the shaking of the aircraft. "We land in one minute, one minute!" the pilot called back._

 _Everyone turned towards the back end of the dropship, giving another check to make sure their lasguns were charged and calibrated._

 _"Tell me something," Mathias said as they grasped a rung and prepared to get up. "How is it with all the horrors you grew up with, you're still so..." he trailed off._

 _"Cheery, I get that a lot," Lumen finished. "And I don't know. I'd never been like this when I was growing up, that's for sure. But I think it's because I feel like I survived the worst that life could throw at me. Whatever comes next is just a bump in the road."_

 _"What were you like?" Mathias asked curiously._

 _Lumen grinned again visible even in the red emergency light. It was a facial expression that was devoid of any trace of malice, just an honest expression, from one friend to another. "I'll tell you if we survive."_

 _"Deal," Mathias nodded, and the ramp dropped._

* * *

 _The Present_

"He's dead, sir," Mathias affirmed.

"You're sure?" lieutenant Redolis asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Mathias slumped his shoulder against a wall and gestured at himself. "I'm the only one left, sir. I'm positive. Unless Emmeldis survived getting separated."

"No, scout teams found his body. Cultists got to him," sergeant Rehmer answered without looking up from the casualty report. Mathias grimaced, and he mercifully didn't receive any details.

Everyone had moved into the entrance of the underground structure, only a few Guardsmen staying outside to stand watch in case the cultists made their return. After the 'Savior' as the Guardsmen were beginning to call him had slain the Daemonic Herald, the remaining Chaos forces had fallen into a disorganized retreat, lasguns nipping at their heels.

Now it was suddenly raining—in the arid badlands no less—and the only shelter was inside the Ordo Xenos' bunker. Where they were in the middle of setting up a temporary HQ and field hospital in the spacious hangar-like area the entrance lead in to.

A process that was still ongoing as Adrian rushed over with scrolls of maps in his arms, and a pair of troopers barked at him to get out of the way while they carried a wounded Guardsmen to a waiting medic.

"Then no one else survived," Redolis breathed, crossing off a list. "You were part of the only other squad sent in before we sealed the doors."

"What? Then how did the cultists who killed the rest of us get through?"

The question made everyone pause as more than a few of them shot looks at the semi-open doors that were under watch.

"I know not. Teleportation, perhaps?" Adrian suggested, the corporal setting his maps down on the small metal tables they had laid out against a wall.

"Possibly. At any rate, we should be discussing the matter of our forces," Redolis reminded them.

He cleared his throat and moved his hands across the maps, spreading each one out before he brought up two sheets of paper, squinting to see them in the dim light of the large but dark room.

"As it is, our joint forces of fifth and sixth company sustained heavy losses on all fronts. Even with that _thing_ ," he said, flicking a hand toward the Savior who was busy lifting a huge crate of supplies like it weighed nothing, "we lost more than we can afford. Nearly fifty percent are outright dead, and another twelve percent are wounded. Which leave us at..."

"Less than seventy-five combat-ready Guardsmen," Wilheim said, making an appearance by joining them at the table.

"Correct, corporal." Redolis acknowledged without lifting his gaze from the map. He put a hand against his chin and hummed thoughtfully at the map. "Do we have enough vehicles to move out to Tansara City?"

Tansara City was the only major industrial and residential settlement on the continent of Solace. It had been under heavy assault and holding its own, but would swiftly collapse without reinforcements, as 6th company's acting commander Sergeant Daskov had informed them upon his arrival an hour ago.

Their actual commander, Lieutenant Bishop Laykauuf had been bisected by a Daemon in the streets of Tansara.

"No sir," Rehmer said quickly. "Even with the reinforcements from the last half of 6th company, they only had enough working vehicles for their own troops. Can't take on ours. Not most of us, anyways."

"Dammit," Redolis cursed. "Were the rest completed destroyed back in Tansara?"

"I think Daskov said that they needed the rest on defensive deployments, this was all they could spare to retrieve us," Rehmer answered.

There was a noise as a pair of blast doors opened, these ones leading to an unexplored part of the complex. The Savior stepped forward with his sword drawn, blade casting light in a small radius and making it somewhat easy to see as a few Guardsmen followed him.

"Sir, what are we going to do about the wounded? They'll die if we leave them here, and we'll need all the medics we can at Tansara," Wilheim said quietly as a medic standing behind him looked at the lieutenant for orders.

Redolis breathed through his teeth, looking over the lists and maps again and again. His eyes met the medic's in a combination of sadness and exhaustion, and everyone knew what he was going to say next. They had heard it happen too many times and lost too many people to it.

"I know. I don't like it either. But if Tansara falls this'll all have been for nothing," Redolis warned them. His tired eyes met their own blank stares as he tried to figure out what to say next.

"The longer we stay here the more time we waste, and the more we waste the more losses we sustain at Tansara City. We've gotten lucky, maybe even blessed, but I don't think we have any more miracles up our sleeves."

A sudden mechanical roar filled the air and lasguns were brought to bear immediately. Everyone at the makeshift command post, from Redolis to Mathias craned their necks to see what was the noise.

At the other end of the tiny underground vehicle bay, a Taurox armored personnel carrier bearing the symbol of the Ordo Xenos rolled out of a hidden motor pool. The hatch on its roof opened, and the Savior plus a floating drone were revealed. The drone chirped and shone a light backwards, revealing three more vehicles just like it.

"Sir, I think we've found our transport," Mathias slowly realized, a grin spreading across his face. For the second time, the Savior had brought them hope.

"Is there enough for the wounded plus the medics?" Adrian wondered.

Redolis was sent back to scouring the list again and again, then shot a glance back up to the four armored vehicles. "It'll be cramped, and some of us will have to ride on top of the vehicles but yes."

"Then let's not waste any time. We're less than seventy miles away, let's move!" Rehmer urged, and the lieutenant agreed. "Gault, Vanic, you two go with the Savior!"

* * *

 _What exactly happened back there?_ Glatisant inquired, his helmet bobbing due to the bumpy journey.

He was kneeling on top of one of the armored vehicles that Ghost had found. Both because it was a better vantage point, and he could barely fit if he crouched inside the thing. No Land Beyond was cradled in his arms as it searched for Darkness threats, two Guardsmen grabbing on to the rungs next to him to keep steady. Where they were going, he had no idea, but it was a safe bet there were more of _those_ creatures ahead.

 _I am not sure myself, Guardian,_ Ghost enigmatically replied as it so often did. _I simply felt an urge to try and open the walls there, and when I attempted to interface with the door, I found I could._

 _But not the other doors, right?_ he guessed.

 _Correct. To verify, I attempted the codes I broadcasted to the vehicle bay to another door, no such luck. What gifts I was granted are situational, apparently._

 _And your presence being absent when I was fighting that permanent death-inducing bastard?_

Glatisant had been a little worried by it. Normally when he died Ghost would at least say "Guardian down," or trill in alarm. Not be completely gone from the fight entirely. It wasn't like the floating AI's character to do that and he knew Ghost wouldn't do it by choice.

 _I am unsure of that as well, Guardian. It may be that its presence alone was enough to sent me into a state of unconsciousness, or what passes for unconsciousness for me,_ Ghost explained. _What is more disconcerting is how you came back. I do not recall you having enough super energy to revive on your own before I... disconnected._

 _No idea,_ Glatisant said, a dust cloud rolling by him and causing Guardsmen around him to cough while his visor merely cleaned it away automatically. _I remember dying, the Other Side, again. Then nothing. Not even a blur, the memories just stop there._

 _The Other Side?_

 _Just as confused as you are. I think I was there before I ended up in that bunker._

 _Strange, that's at least three kinds of impossible, for you at least. There are so many things that I don't know, and not just because my memories were tampered with. Or someone tried to, anyways. Do we even know if that sword you have is safe?_

The zweihänder pulsed softly, its presence in his storage making itself known even among the other exotics he hoarded.

 _Possibly? I have the feeling whatever entity resided within it got destroyed when I came back,_ the Guardian reasoned. _Also, I feel like we haven't covered this, but I'm a Warlock. Space magic first, then shooting, then martial arts. I know little to nothing about wielding a sword effectively except for when I killed Crota. And that was really just random slashing. I'm no Bladedancer._

 _So be it. I'll just ignore that you're apparently able to completely purge the Darkness from those tainted things without the use of powerful artifacts. Don't do anything like that ever again though, your neural network is a complete mess, and your brain too. I'm repairing it rapidly but if you die again, even to a normal one of them you may not be able to revive. That thing caused you too much brain damage,_ Ghost decided.

 _Regrettably, you may have to use it whenever you can to conserve ammo. We've still got an ammunition problem and the synthesis packs will only last so long. Synthesizing ammunition from things we find lying around is going to take some time to perfect, and I don't think I'll suddenly receive the knowledge on how to do it like with the doors._

 _Right,_ Glatisant nodded unnecessarily, the gesture lost to the constant bumps the Taurox took as it travelled at its maximum speed. _Speaking of you repairing things, how's that translator doing?_

 _Nearly complete, you could probably understand most of what they're saying, and I'm uploading that to the neural network now. Still repairing your vocal chords, damage was extensive but there were no traces of Darkness left in it, so it's just time consuming to repair. Might take me an hour._

The Taurox jumped over the next rocky bluff, its treads slamming into the cracked ground below. In front of them was a large gated city, and it was on fire.

 _We may not have an hour._

* * *

 _Meanwhile on Hive World Meridian..._

Force Commander Aramus snarled as he drove his chainsword straight through the Knight's center of mass. It shrieked and hissed in pain, but he brought up his other hand to catch its sword-bearing wrist, and with a guttural roar of the chainsword, it died.

His boot swung about to meet another one, caving in its carapace head and sending it flying backwards, lifeless. Aramus gripped his storm bolter tightly, sending a rapid burst of bolters into the masses, tearing droves of Hive Thralls apart in an instant.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before, Cyrus?" he grunted out after killing the last of the Knights.

The veteran Scout Sergeant waited until he got up from cover and ran up to the Force commander before responding. "No, commander. At first glance they vaguely resemble Tyranids, but there are no Tyranids that take on such a human-like form."

He gestured to the Thralls that were rapidly turning into ashes and continued, "No Tyranid does that. Burning up, denying biomass... it's not conductive to their methods."

" _So we have a new type of Xeno to deal with,_ " the rumbling tone of Davian Thule said, his dreadnought's massive frame stomping its way towards them leisurely.

"What is worrying is the energy that they hold," Cyrus observed. "Can you feel it, Commander? Like when we were fighting Ulkair?"

Aramus scowled at the reminder. The foul Daemon had whispered to him then, and had continued to in the years following. Promises of power and eternal victory if he would just sacrifice a small piece of his beliefs. If he would just don the Chaos-tainted power armor and become more powerful than any Blood Raven before him he could have whatever he wanted, it bargained.

Force Commander Aramus had pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, his faith not breaking once. Even when all seemed lost and there was no way out, he did not give in to the heretical thoughts, and here he was. Alive and uncorrupted.

 _Minus Avitus,_ his subconscious told him, and he hated himself all over again. Maybe if he had asked why Avitus preferred to use such diabolical methods, or simply talked to him or-

he snapped himself out of that train of thought. It was dangerous and in the past. What was Cyrus's question?

"I remember," he said. "This isn't entirely like Chaos though. It doesn't speak with emotion or hate, just a crushing pressure. Whatever darkness these creatures hold is not born of the Warp."

Cyrus grunted in agreement then shuddered as his body absorbed the recoil from the Astartes MK II Pattern Sniper Rifle, and a Hive Wizard died. Half of its bony skull and mandible were torn off by the explosive impact and the dark energies that swirled around its fingertips faded.

"They're weak," he said. "Still, caution would not be amiss when dealing with these creatures. They're numerous and adaptive, and if the Tyranids and Orks have taught us anything it's that those are deadly combinations. Let's be on our guard."

Tarkus, Aramus, Thule, and Thaddeus agreed, and they began to move.

* * *

 _On Agri-World Abundance, Tansara City,_

"Need another minute!" Wilheim yelled out, voice hoarse from running around the fire and smoke-choked city.

Rehmer dove backwards, narrowly avoiding a stream of stubber fire that blew apart the window he was aiming out of not a moment ago. "Then work faster! Throne, they're going to get into the palace!" he hissed loudly.

The sergeant crawled across the room, snatching up his lasgun and aiming out of a different window, managing to kill another cultist before the rest returned fire.

"We're not going to last much longer," he warned the corporal who was tapping furiously at a cogitator's interface as another explosion sounded. Someone shouted in pain and alarm, and viscera splashed against their flak jackets.

Screams of inhuman terror emanated from outside, and Rehmer dared to look. The Savior burst out of the Palace, apparently its side of the building was clear. It had forgone using the strange rifle from earlier, favoring the glowing white sword that tore through the cultists and cut them down where they stood.

In just a few short seconds, the small mob of cultists were gone, and the Savior surveyed the streets for any additional targets.

Something that continued to mystify him was not the fact it was clearly holy and yet not of the Blood Ravens chapter, as the Daemon it slew seemed to have thought. It was how immaculate the Savior's armor was. Even with smoke and ash in flurries, its cloth armor seemed to stay untouched. There wasn't even dust or blood on it.

"Sir, reinforcements from 5th company are here!" Wilheim called, and it was only because of that warning that Rehmer's wired brain didn't cause him to instantly jump up and shoot them by mistake.

Private Mathias Vanic and corporal Adrian Gault slid into cover next to his blown-out window as more Guardsmen filed in, taking up defensive positions.

"It's about time you showed up," the sergeant barked weakly at them, his throat too dry from the flames to risk yelling.

"Sorry sir," Adrian apologized. "The lieutenant was having us reinforce the PDF's base a few blocks from here and we got held up. Also he wanted us to tell you something."

"Well what is it?" Rehmer asked, accepting another power pack for his lasgun from a nearby Guardsman.

"Redolis says that the remaining units across the planet are reporting a decrease in Chaos activity. Apparently it's tied into when the Savior killed the Daemon, sir."

Rehmer lifted himself up and turned to look through the window, where the Savior was holding its long grey and brown sniper rifle. It was firing at something unseen from his current angle, each shot sending out a bang that shook the ground.

"Sure doesn't seem like a decrease over here, next wave?" he called out to Wilheim.

"Spotters report more cultists approaching our position, estimate contact in one minute!"

"To your positions, spread out across this level and get someone on the upper floors!" Rehmer ordered as he rested his lasgun on the windowsill.

"Yes sir, but the Chaos forces have withdrawn from all other settlements on the planet," Adrian continued on, "this is the last major offensive they have. Anywhere. It looks like with the death of their Herald they're just trying to cause as much damage as possible before they leave."

A fireball formed on the floor directly above them, sending splintered wood raining on top of the Guardsmen as they instinctively fell to the floor for cover.

"Artillery!" Wilheim cried out unnecessarily.

"WHAT?!" Adrian asked him.

"DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?!" Mathias yelled to the corporal.

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!" Rehmer commanded even as his ears rang so loudly he struggled to hear himself. He did not however struggle to reach his feet and start firing.

Lasgun shots torched the ground and left warped patterns in the asphalt. Slugs flew back in retaliation, and cultists advanced across the main street, making their way closer and closer to the Governor's Palace.

An orange object soared across the street, landing against a building and detonating into a semi-transparent bubble. It must have been heat-based, as every cultist it touched immediately burst into flames and screamed in agony. Tearing his gaze away from the spectacle, Rehmer saw the black and white form of the Savior moving up, arms glowing with energy and sword up and ready to strike. Even the Daemon leading the cultists seemed to back away in fright, the blade warding off the Chaos even as it sprang into motion.

"I've got it! Connection established!" Wilheim reported, the cogitator sending out lines of code that only he recognized from the limited experience he had with an Adeptus Mechanicus priest on a Forge World.

"Good, tell whoever's listening to send a transmission to Subsector Aurelia. Tell them we need orbital assistance, immediately," Rehmer ordered as the corporal began to relay the instructions.

The skirmish didn't take much longer after that. Two dead Guardsmen and an entire column of cultists and one Daemon later, the battered Governor's Palace returned to a state of relative calm. The Savior began to run back, and its strange weapons materialized in its hands. Once again, the eerie calm that was only broken up by a few moans of pain or the distant crackling roar of city-wide fires was all that remained. Idly, Rehmer wondered if there was even anyone left alive in their district.

"Do you suppose it's an Eldar, sir?" Wilheim walked forward while nodding to the sprinting Savior, his transmission apparently complete.

"Honestly? I don't know, corporal," Rehmer said, sliding back down exhaustedly as the pair of Guardsmen next to him massaged their ears to try and get their hearing back. "It would certainly explain the height, but not the holiness. Don't tell me you didn't feel it."

"I did, sir," Wilheim replied. "Certainly doesn't feel like the same kind of purity you get from a chapel though."

"Got that right, what'd they say, anyways?" the sergeant mumbled.

"Said they'd pass the message along to forces in orbit of Meridia, and that it might take some time for their forces to reach us. As for why the message didn't go through in the first place, they think that their previous messages were blocked by the Daemon Herald."

"They think? What kind of half-arsed communication workers are they?" Rehmer wondered, squinting his eyes.

"It's not the original staff, sir. They all died during the first invasion. I'm just telling you what the PDF manning it are saying."

"Figures," he muttered, bringing a hand up to his midsection where he winced and pulled back, fingers coated in dark red. Corporal Wilheim's eyebrows shot up in worry before he stopped his panicking.

"Hang on sir, Medic!"

A Guardsman with white shoulder pauldrons arrived, gripping a small white case with red apothecary symbols on the front. He set to work immediately, bandaging the wound while Rehmer recoiled slightly from the pain. "I suppose we're out of painkillers?" he managed between grunts.

At the medic's nod he just slumped over, defeated. "Of course."

"Sir!" Wilheim gently shook his shoulder in alarm before the sergeant shot him a glare. "I'm not dying, relax. Just needed to rest a little-"

Loud crackling noise filled the room, and their gazes settled upon the Vox-caster. Rehmer glared at nothing in particular, pain forgotten. "By the Emperor, no one can get a moment's rest in this forsaken place. Someone turn that shit off."

Wilheim did so obediently, tapping at the cogitator for a few seconds as it continued to spit static unresponsively. Worriedly, he leaned closer. The wind began to pick up outside, scraps of paper and the remains of curtains billowing slightly. "Sir!" he began.

"Unless it's Redolis or reinforcements I don't want to hear it," his sergeant threatened.

"Sir, it's the communications center, they say a space hulk just appeared in orbit! Reports suggest it's the _Judgment of Carrion_!"

Silence, even when the Savior bounded into the room as the horrified Guardsmen realized what was happening. Most of them traded whispers of what they had heard of space hulks, some stared ahead with terrified eyes, and a few just looked down blankly in shock. It seemed so unfair to have victory so close and then snatched away by the Warp.

The Savior coughed once, twice, before it spoke in flawless Low Gothic. "Listen, I know that you're confused about who or what I am but-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Mathias interrupted.

The Savior gave a sigh that rattled its whole body. "Traveler-dammit," he muttered.

* * *

 _Glatisant - Inventory:_

 _New item: Exotic melee weapon added - "Reborn in Light" - Does 450 Solar Damage with each hit. Does greater damage to allies of Darkness. Emits a small amount of Light._

 _"The Daemon within raged as the Light burned it away. In its place, the purifying force left a shard of the Guardian who had tamed it."_

 _Upgrade: 'Maiming' - Cost: 1300 Glimmer. This weapon automatically seeks weak points in enemy armor, guaranteeing a deadly strike. PURCHASED._

* * *

 **A/N: Ah, goodness me, what a chapter. Truly remarkable. It took me two days to write, you probably ten minutes to read. Such is life.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this part, I'll be tying this story into the Dawn of War Chaos Rising and Retribution campaign, a little. Hugely different due to the**

 **introduction of just one Guardian, of course. See you next time, Arc 1 is ending soon!**

* * *

 _Chapter Glossary: The more you know!_

 _Words not commonly known: Zweihänder - Reinaissance era Broadsword of Germanic make._

 _Taurox - Imperial Guard heavy APC. Used to ferry troops and supplies through all types of terrain, featuring heavy armor, four treads, and usually a mounted gun of some type._

 _Judgment of Carrion - Space Hulk that terrorized Subsector Aurelia. Only the Heroes of Aurelia have ever entered and left unharmed, and they do not speak of when they did. It is infested with Tyranids, and Chaos bleeds into every part of its cursed hull._


	5. That I May Not Fade

**A/N: Sorry this took a while. I rewrote the first part like three times and got busy with other things.**

 **Reviews: The True Skull - Just chalk it up to whatever happened to our Guardian protagonist when he was dead as something he shouted in anger. Ghost was using what information he had, and since the Hive believed him to be a god, Ghost assumed so as well. Officially according to Destiny lore, Crota is a god-like/demigod son of Oryx, and is big and scary enough that the Hive he commands believes he's a god. More information to follow in the coming chapters.**

 **edboy - Hey thanks, I'm glad you're liking the story. That's not going to happen however, as the Emperor is slightly harder to bring back than any mere Ghost could. EDIT: Sorry, I must've been dumb when I read your review. That might work, but with the script I had plotted, the Traveler is going to be 'indisposed' for some time due to reasons.  
**

 **Hellscream - EDIT: Since I'm not going to respond for a while I'm updating this chapter to answer you. The Guardian is not aware of who/what assisted him in reviving himself. What it was is up to you to wonder while I write and expand upon it. He is not _currently_ a saint, that may or may not change. I can't answer all your questions without giving too much away, but I will say this. This story will take place largely in and around the Dawn of War Retribution campaign. Any rumors of the Emperor appearing in the story is purely a rumor and it is unknown if Ghost possesses the knowledge or means to revive the Emperor. Thank you for reading and enjoying, and I'll see you next Arc!**

 **Other guest - I said in the first chapter, towards the bottom. He's a human, but this chapter elaborates on that bit slightly more.**

 **Eipok - As stated above, this chapter explains why Glatisant isn't entirely normal, even among Guardians.**

 **Keep in mind everyone, in this setting, Warhammer and Destiny are set in the same universes at different times. This story in particular takes place right before the events of Dawn of War Retribution.**

 **Story time, children. Let's do this.**

* * *

 _Many years ago_

 _Inquisitor Decius Kyvanc looked exactly like what most people would expect the stereotypical Inquisitor to look like. Tall and lanky, but with a cruel face that had seen many battles and atrocities. Judging by the scars and the dreadful atmosphere that hung around him, it wouldn't be farfetched to guess he had taken part in more than a few war crimes himself._

 _Right now, Decius didn't seem to be paying attention to what was going on around him except for two things; the cogitator and the scribe next to him. His gaze kept alternating between the two, each time with slightly more irritation than the last. With a slight swish as his coat turned with his head, he faced the scribe._

 _"Well?" he asked at last._

 _The assistant shuffled his feet awkwardly but answered quickly. He saw what happened to those that dallied in answering the Ordo Xenos Inquisitor and had no intention of ending up like them._

 _"Scholar Hansir has a few theories, supported by our latest scans, my lord," Scribe Krune reported with an admirable amount of calm._

 _A servo skull flew by them, casting red light from its scanner across the room. For what purpose, Krune didn't know._

 _"Let's hear it," Decius prodded, settling his gaze upon the motionless figure behind the containment pod. Even like this, it was still emitting a very faint but present glowing effect that bathed the room in ghostly white light._

 _All their seals and rites, and yet the light, however tiny, refused to diminish. Decius didn't understand it._

 _There was a sound of rustling papers as Krune prepared his report. "We believe that the creature is most definitely Human, mixed with a sub-category of humans that originated from the Age of Strife."_

 _Decius turned to face him with rapt attention, but Krune didn't notice as the reports shuffled about his hands. The scholar's mind was thinking as fast as it could, trying to condense Hansir's report into something understandable._

 _Damn Hansir and his ramblings._

 _"The gene sample we extracted from the subject appears to be consistent with that of our ancient records of the original Primarchs and the God Emperor himself," Krune continued, tone not wavering despite the undoubtedly heretical nature of his words. "In conclusion, whatever this hybrid creature is, it is descended directly from either the Emperor or the Emperor's ancestors."_

 _There was no noise but the ever-present hum of the electric generators that both their ears had tuned out over time, and the soft whirring noises of the cogitator as it collected data. Finally, Decius sighed and stared straight at Krune with his signature predatory gaze._

 _"If it were anyone else telling me this, I would have them shot for heresy on the spot," Decius warned, fingers brushing against the holster of his bolt pistol in warning. Krune looked uneasy, but managed not to faint._

 _Decius let it sink in for a moment, choosing not to speak until the scribe had been dealt a healthy dose of fear._

 _"Furthermore, I think you will understand that if you are to survive, you will not mention these reports outside of this room or to anyone but me and Hansir. Understood?"_

 _Krune let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and the combination of relief from breathing and being told he wouldn't have to die was almost too much to bear. He regained his composure quickly though, professionalism had to come first when dealing with an Inquisitor._

 _"Yes my lord. Shall I begin talking with Hansir about additional testing?"_

 _"Yes," Decius replied immediately, face slowly growing into a grin that was somewhere between happy and sinister. "Further study of the creature is a top priority from now on. But remember," he warned the scribe,_

 _"This experiment, even if it succeeds, is heresy of the highest degree. It may also be the sector's, or even the Imperium's key to salvation. Can I trust you?" the Inquisitor asked, punctuating each word as the gravity of the situation became clear._

 _Krune didn't hesitate to give his response._

 _"Yes my lord. Absolutely."_

 _"Good. Now go, I gave you orders."_

 _He all but sprinted down the hall, searching for the other scholar. Decius followed not long after, resolving to get a stiff drink after the results of that meeting. His mind was racing at a million miles per hour as he thought of the various ways this could impact the Imperium._

 _A being that was born of the same ancestors from the Emperor himself... it would certainly explain the height and the impossibly pure light that spilled from it. If he could take advantage of it, there would be no end to the ways he could further his own power._

 _That same slow and unsettling smile from before came across his features without the Inquisitor even noticing, and he walked out the door, closing it with a press of a button._

 _Behind him, the dead Warlock continued to dream._

* * *

 _The Present_

"We're dead."

"Shut up. We're not dead until we're... dead."

"Did that sound way better in your head?"

"Hey, that rhymed."

"I could kill both of you and make it look like an accident."

"You'd probably miss and hit yourself. Sir."

"At least we're not focusing on the Space Hulk."

Corporal Cross and private Amos both stared at him for that, their blank looks conveying the hidden anger behind the message. Private Stire rubbed the back of his head sheepishly for that. "Sorry."

Cross sighed and pinched the bridge of his noise, then winced as his dusty gloves cut rubbed against his face. "Just... stop."

"Yes sir."

Once again, the thirteenth floor of the Governor's Palace was totally silent. At nearly at the top of the building, the roaring fires and winds of the besieged city were nothing more than distant background noise.

The ominous whistling that seemed to originate from the Space Hulk was a new addition though.

"What's the lieutenant planning?" Amos asked him. Like everyone else, the private was acting with an admirable amount of calm, but Cross had seen enough battles to know it was a facade and the Guardsman was terrified of the Chaos vessel. Which was fine, since he doing more or less the same thing.

"Redolis got shot, no one knows if he's going to make it. Basically, what we're doing falls to the sergeants, and I'm not sure how many vehicles we have left," Cross explained with what limited information he had.

"And what's that plan?"

Cross bit back a scathing comment about private Stire's failure to adhere orders and answered him. "I'm as in the dark as you two. Some of them want to board it and detonate cyclonic torpedoes against its hull. Most of them just want to get off world, and I'm inclined to agree. Just need to figure out an exit strategy."

"Wait, would the torpedoes thing even work?" Stire wondered.

The exhausted corporal entertained the thought before reality entered his thoughts. "Probably not. You'd get killed by whatever abominations are onboard before you could arm the charges, and who's to say it'll even damage it? Given our shite luck, it'll probably end up dooming this planet."

"As if it wasn't doomed already."

"That's not true. What about the Savior?" Amos retorted.

Stire gave an uneasy look around the room as though the Guardian could hear him. "Don't tell me you buy into that 'Savior' shite. It's probably a Daemon that thinks helping us for the time being is more convenient than not. Mark my words, the bastard'll eat our souls or something if it gets the opportunity."

"Yes," Cross rejoined the conversation. "A Daemon. Which, as we all know, radiates a holy light that repels Chaos and wields untainted psyker power. Just your normal everyday Daemon."

Amos nodded in agreement while Stire looked on, slightly miffed about the corporal's remark. As he opened his mouth to give his counter argument, the door burst open, and they grabbed their lasguns instinctively.

Someone Cross didn't recognize, with stripes denoting him a sergeant entered the room. On his feet and saluting immediately, the corporal was joined by the two privates with him. "Sir! Corporal Cross reporting!"

"Enough with the pleasantries, corporal. We're moving downtown. We found some maps to a ground-based dock, gotta get off this rock," the sergeant informed them as they grabbed what meager supplies were left in the room.

"Yes sir," Cross managed as he shoved a spare power pack into one of many satchels. "Where are we going?"

"Orbit," he heard. "We'll think of how to get out of the system if we get that far. Pray we find a navigator on the way there, the Savior is leading the charge to the docks."

Stire grumbled something but a swift _thwack_ to his head made him stop, and the motley group of Guardsmen went into the stairwell to rejoin the rest of their unit.

Outside, the swirling red mass of clouds beneath the Space Hulk continued to churn violently.

* * *

The _Judgment of Carrion's_ hull rippled with Warp energies. Displays of evil arcane light swirled on every room of every deck, and when they receded they revealed only the forces of Chaos.

Cultists who damned their souls for power.

Mutants.

Lesser Daemons.

Untold numbers of them swarmed the decks, but the worst was yet to come.

Somewhere on the multi-kilometer long monstrosity, in a room just as large and abandoned as the last, the biggest Warp Storm of all raged.

The very panels of the interior were flung into the storm, and lighting reached out to scorch the hull. All the noise was deafening, but there were no ears to hear it even as the sounds echoed through the misshapen corridors.

Finally, with one last gust of corrupted wind, the tempest passed and it was over. All that was left in the eye of the receding hurricane was the huge form of Chaos Terminator Armor.

And a black shadowy form directly in front of it.

" _Eliphas, I have decided to... reconsider your pleas,"_ it said thickly. As though the shadowy figure's voice was coming from a voice modulator turned as low and menacing as it could go.

Immediately, the Terminator's head bowed deeply in appreciation. " _Thank you, Lord Abaddon. I will destroy the Blood Ravens this time, I swear it!"_

A growl that emanated throughout the entire room. " _See to it that you do."_

Eliphas the Inheritor didn't dare to lift his head to reply. " _I will tear down this entire sector if you demand it._ "

The dark clouds of utter blackness contained to swirl around Abaddon the Despoiler as he continued to glare down at the Chaos Champion. If it was at all possible, his next words made him even more threatening than it already was.

" _Do not fail again. Or you will WISH I left you to rot._ "

* * *

A Bloodletter stumbled backwards, unholy flesh marred with scorch marks from lasers and burns from the Guardian. For a single moment, it looked like it was going to survive, but the edge of the last Taurox slammed its armored bulk into the Daemon, killing it.

A scant thirty or so meters ahead of the convoy, Glatisant blasted the skull off another cultist, and wheeled around quickly enough to be a blur as he cleaved another in two with his sword.

 _All things considered, I suppose things could be somewhat worse._

It was the first time Ghost had spoken since they had finished talking with the Guardsmen in the now leveled Governor's Palace.

 _That's pretty hard to believe. The Traveler is more than likely dead, along with all the other Guardians. Somehow humanity has survived, and has become the most xenophobic empire in existence. Also the Darkness has apparently evolved into these creatures._

Hard Light appeared in his hands, but the ammunition was too precious to waste. Instead, the Guardian shoved the stock into a cultist, driving him into the line of fire while he jumped into a smoke column and allowed his shields to recharge.

 _On the plus side, they trust us. Sort of._

 _I would be pretty mad if they didn't. I'm human, mostly, so that should count for something._

 _I still get the feeling that telling them that was a mistake._

They still hadn't been told why a large number of Guardsmen treated him with wariness after that particular revelation that he wasn't entirely human. Still, they worked with him and that was good enough. A large number of them also continued to praise and salute him on sight, likely in response to killing a 'Daemonic Herald' or whatever the thing was called.

 _You've been quiet for a while though. What is it that you Ghosts do with your spare time anyway?_ Glatisant decided to question with nothing but the grunting of the engines and on-and-off weapons fire to distract him.

Ghost gave a sound of exhaustion. _Trying to figure out where we are in relation to Earth. If the Traveler could have survived. If the Darkness is following us. Also why you're able to resist the touch of these creatures._

 _Maybe they've never been exposed to the Light for so long that the slightest amount burns them at the touch? I'll need more time to analyze it too,_ the Warlock mused. All those years of studying the Light and fighting the Darkness, and most of his experience in that department was useless here.

Not completely though. He slammed a palm out, hitting nothing but empty air, but that's not what mattered. Solar Energy from Scorch rippled out and set a pair of cultists on fire. They dropped their rifles, screaming and writhing as the inferno consumed them.

 _Eyes up, Guardian. Sniper directly to your right and in that cathedral-like buildings._

 _They all look like cathedrals._

No Land Beyond punched through metal, flesh, and bone in an instant, and the sniper was no more.

 _Any ideas as to what we'll find if we stick around for too long?_ Ghost asked as the combat began to die down save for the occasional report of weapons fire.

 _Yes. Given the amount of fear they have around this 'Space Hulk' and the storm above it, probably certain death,_ Ghost deadpanned.

It was impossible to avoid the sight of the Hulk. A twisted amalgamation of mismatching ships that varied in origin, strung together. Creating a bloated corpse of starships that looked to be covered in rust and purple storms.

It was unsettling enough that neither of them wished to stay for too long even if they didn't know what it would bring. It also didn't help that it resembled something the Hive would create.

A sudden explosion rocked the roadway, and Glatisant dropped down towards a bombed-out building as Hard Light began to shred the fresh cultists' cover. He could hear more approaching, but for the moment it appeared they were dead.

Not all of them were as gone as he thought, however. A slug blew past him and struck the jugular of a Guardsman riding on one of the armored vehicles. The man choked on his own blood for a few brief moments before falling off the back of the Taurox, dead before he hit the ground.

 _Even on Earth, I'd never seen so many dead humans before._

Glatisant gave no reply.

* * *

Adrian buried his head against the armor plating, hoping to narrow the profile he was presenting to the cultists. Bullets pinged off the armor and a few skimmed off the back of his flak jacket, but he didn't feel any severe impacts.

"More comin' through, someone get on the turret! The turret!"

He crawled across the roof of the armored vehicle, feet skidding every once in a while from the constant turns.

Almost losing his grip once or twice, he finally made it to the mounted gun and grasped its handles, prying a dead Guardsman off of him. He swore to himself. Corporal Cross didn't make it.

"Gault, quick frakking daydreaming and start firing, for the Emperor's sake! They're-"

The familiar muted thud of a bullet striking soft flesh was heard, and the corporal didn't need to turn back to know what had happened. From his prone stance, he couldn't rotate it too much, but the current angle was all he needed.

Autocannon shells left a glowing yellow trail as they slammed mostly into the ground or the side of buildings, mostly hitting the ground.

But a large enough amount of them hit their mark.

A small crowd of cultists were turned into vapor from the impacts, leaving nothing but a thick mist in their place. Dust and body parts were kicked into the air as the corporal didn't let up in pulling the trigger, continuing to fire for no reason other than desperation.

"How much further!" he managed to get out, his voice sounding so tiny. Maybe it was from his partial deafness or the battle, who knew.

He went so long without an answer there was time to properly align himself into the turret seat, and he even fired another more accurate blast from the mounted gun, taking down a Bloodletter that climbed onto the back of another Taurox.

"Two klicks! We're almost there!"

There was so much adrenaline and terror going through his brain that he didn't fully register the reply until well after it was said.

A Guardsman running alongside the vehicles got on one knee to steady his aim and took down three cultists with three lasers in a row. He quickly got back up, a grin evident on his face to celebrate the minor victory before a bolter perforated him.

"Frak! Chaos Marine, HEADS DOWN!"

"What!?"

"Mathias this is not the time!" Rehmer yelled back, shifting to fire on the Marine.

Ordinarily, their usual tactic of swamping even the ultra-durable Chaos Marines with lasers would range from slightly to highly effective.

With half their number dead, and the other half either focused on other threats or missing most of their shots due to firing on the move, the effectiveness of the plan went to zero. Unabated by the small amount of lasgun fire it was receiving, the Marine took aim and fired its cursed weapon.

Bolter shells tested the armor of their Taurox, and some of the plates gave way. A shower of sparks and destroyed battle-plating fell upon the side of the road. The impacts were enough to rattle Adrian, preventing him from firing.

A familiar sounding shot that rang louder than the rest of the explosions and gunfire, and the Chaos Marine's head was pulped immediately. Ahead of them, the Savior- _Guardian,_ Adrian corrected himself, was alternating between picking off heavy targets with its antiquated-looking but deceptively powerful rifle or using the white greatsword to kill any that came close.

He gave a grateful nod that the Guardian didn't see, and groaned with effort as he began to move the turret to face the right side. More hostiles were incoming.

Gault's worn face was lit up from the muzzle flashes, and a mixture of debris and shells fell upon the cultists—until the mounted gun clicked and stopped firing.

"Corporal! Keep firing, we've almost got them!" Rehmer encouraged, oblivious to the clicking noises as he continued to fire.

"I'm _out_ , sir," Adrian said as he let go of the handles. Where was his lasgun? Oh Emperor no, did it fall off the Taurox?

"Dammit!" Rehmer echoed his thoughts. Although he was probably thinking more about how they were deprived of heavy munitions support. The sergeant flattened himself against the roof. "I'm out too."

"What in the Warp is that?"

They all dared to raise themselves and look forward, and immediately felt mixed emotions.

Ahead and behind a destroyed building was the remains of the spaceport. Badly damaged and obviously bombarded, but from the telltale flash of lasguns in the few buildings standing near it, it was still operational, and so was the Carrack class Transport ship sitting in a trench-like dock next to them.

But much closer, at the next intersection, was the Guardian. And he was staring straight at a swirling pink portal that crackled with power from the Warp.

Corporal Gault slid an almost-empty power pack to Rehmer as the portal finished its sequence, and out stepped the biggest Chaos Marine Adrian had ever seen.

Wicked sharp spikes decorated gold and black armor. Marked with the icons of Chaos, the colossal figure was taller than even the Guardian, and judging from the power sword and storm bolter, more powerful.

"Go," Rehmer whispered before he remembered they were in the deafening noise of battle. "Get us out of here, now!" he yelled into the Taurox's hatch.

" _What about the Guardian?_ " came the driver's muffled reply.

Rehmer looked back, then at his nearly-empty lasgun. "He can make it out of this on his own, we can't. Just go!"

* * *

" _Your friends have abandoned you. Pity. They won't get to see you die._ "

Glatisant wasn't entirely sure if he cared to tell Ghost to switch off the translator, but settled on not doing so in the interest of uncovering intel. Traveler knows these idiotic creatures liked to ramble. Maybe this one would spill its plans.

" _Ah, but where are my manners? I am Eliphas the Inheritor. Champion of the Black Legion. I know of your exploits, 'Savior.' Many of my kin have fallen to you._ "

 _Ghost?_ he tried.

 _The Black Legion serves Chaos undivided, if Private Vanic is to be believed. This 'Eliphas' nearly destroyed a planet called Lorn V some time ago. I didn't speak with the Guardsmen long enough to know any more. Keep him talking._

" _If nothing else, I admire your tenacity, creature of light,_ " the monster claimed, swinging its sword about as it spoke. A blade as black as nightmare and outlined in a red glow. He had no desire to get hit by it.

Eliphas mistook the Guardian's motionless stature as pondering his offer, and so he continued. " _You could command even more power—if you stood by my side. Join me, and together we could rule with the help of Dark Gods themselves!_ "

The distant sound of engines had faded away, and the Warlock was left to stare at the Black Legion's Champion. Ghost didn't utter a sound despite being present within Glatisant's armor. Both of them ignored the obvious question of _why did he just say you were going to die and then proceeds to offer a place in the Black Legion?_

Even the few remaining cultists and Daemons around the duo had fallen silent, watching with interest. Not to disappoint, the Sunsinger broke the silence the only way that came to mind.

"No thanks, and fuck you," Glatisant said in turn. Reborn in Light was drawn, and the Guardian held the broadsword in a ready stance.

The massive suit of Terminator Armor gave a melancholic sigh as the Daemon spectators jeered.

" _You are as much of a disappointment as those pathetic Guardsmen,_ " Eliphas said in his distorted, mechanical voice. " _And you will die in terror. Another soul for my ascension to Princehood!_ "

 _If you die, revive yourself then run, I can't do it for you._

 _Of course._

Strangely enough, Eliphas didn't move after finishing his short speech, and the Guardian went on the offensive.

Glatisant leapt half the distance between them in a single bound before the storm bolter began to fire. He darted to the left in a hurry to avoid the explosive shells before jumping and initiating a mid-air pirouette.

He landed just in time to hastily roll backwards, avoiding the power sword that cleaved through the concrete ground and left a glowing orange gash in the ground where he was kneeling not a moment before.

Neither of them were winded by the effort, and the Guardian transitioned into a run around Eliphas, using the Terminator Armor's bulk to his advantage. Unable to turn fast enough to accurately track him, Eliphas was very briefly unable to see the sprinting Guardian, which was exactly what Glatisant needed.

The Sunsinger changed directions and entered a dead sprint towards the Chaos Champion's back. He dropped to a slide at the last second, avoiding a powerful backhand from the massive gauntlets, and wedged a Fusion Grenade into the interlocking parts of the armor before jumping off.

Eliphas knew something was wrong and immediately dropped his power-sword wielding hand to pry the explosive off while blind firing with the storm bolter. It was too late however, and the sticky grenade glowed bright enough to light up the entire road when it exploded.

Not one to miss an opportunity, Lord of Wolves entered Glatisant's hand, and burst after burst of the Exotic shotgun's fiery maelstrom slammed into Eliphas's weakened form. Even as he got to his feet, shaking off the damage, the Guardian caught him in a flying tackle.

Keeping one foot on his arm to keep from using the sword, Glatisant's hand wound up into a Light-infused fist, pummeling the face of the Chaos Champion. Each strike left an additional scorch mark, and Eliphas was too stunned by the assault to throw him off.

A sudden booming noise was heard, and Glatisant's shields were stripped away in a second as a bolter shell exploded against the side of his helmet. Smoke curled from the storm bolter as Eliphas coughed up blood.

Tumbling off of him, Glatisant got to his feet and swapped Lord of Wolves for Hard Light, then reached for his sword.

Eliphas was on his feet and running faster than any living creature wearing Terminator Armor should have been able to, and the shock of it meant Glatisant had just barely enough time to bring up his Light-empowered blade to block a powerful diagonal slashing attack from the wicked-looking power sword.

For one single moment, Glatisant was able to push back with one hand while Hard Light was leveled at the Champion's midsection.

Then Eliphas pushed back, his bulk and strength easily overpowering the comparatively frail Warlock.

Something vital within him snapped, and Glatisant fell to a knee while Hard Light clattered against the floor. The damned power sword scraped and crackled against his blade, forcing the Warlock to the ground as Eliphas continued to press down, gloating all the while.

" _You see? It is pointless to struggle against the inevitable. The Blood Ravens will fall. This sector will burn. And it will be me who destroys the False Emperor!_ "

Glatisant tried to speak, only letting out a pained groan before an idea struck his mind. Hard Light was within arms' reach, and though he didn't have enough Super Energy to revive himself, maybe he could-

 _Do it,_ Ghost agreed.

Eliphas brought his storm bolter-covered hand to rest on the power sword, doubling the pressure and forcing the Guardian's blade to dim in the face of so much power, but the Warlock was ready for it. His armor seemed to ripple like the surface of water and glowed almost as bright as when he would activate Radiance.

The Guardian spoke through gritted teeth as reinvigorated muscles began to repel the attack. "I'm not a Blood Raven."

He rose to his full height over the course of a few seconds, giving a mighty shove that sent Eliphas stumbling back a step while Hard Light went back into his left hand.

"I'm a Guardian."

The auto rifle emptied itself into Eliphas, each hit arcing blue forks of electricity across his chest, immobilizing him. Wasting no time, Glatisant channeled what little Super Energy he had left into his sword—and thrust it straight through Eliphas's armored front.

Reborn in Light sank to its hilt into the Terminator chestpiece, Light emanating from the wound. Eliphas howled in both animalistic rage and fear as he experienced true mortality for the first time. A hurricane of energy that could only have come from the Warp formed around them, throwing bricks of shattered concrete and debris around the duo.

" _No!_ " Grimacing, the Warlock holstered Hard Light—and slammed his Light-infused palm against Eliphas's head, shutting him up.

The pure form of energy burned hot enough to turn Eliphas's pale skin red, and steam rose between Glatisant's fingers. Suddenly, a great many things happened in the span of a few seconds.

Eliphas butted his head forward with a roar, forcing Glatisant back while simultaneously delivering a powerful stab upwards. Bringing the power sword up from the ground, and into the Guardian's elbow, splashing both of them with Light.

At the same time, Glatisant withdrew his injured arm from Eliphas, only barely managing to grasp the hilt of the blade stuck in the Chaos Champion's gut before Eliphas kicked him back—taking the sword with him.

The Warp Storm swallowed both of them, and both Champion of Chaos Undivided and Guardian of the Light entered blissful unconsciousness as the Warp sent them far away.

* * *

 **END ARC 1**

* * *

 **A/N: Sure has been a while. And just like last time, takes me forever to come up with stuff and write it, and you guys a few minutes. Oh well.**

 **HEADS UP: As this is the end of the Arc, I'm going to spend the next few weeks coming up with ideas for the next one, writing them, and procrastinating. You won't be seeing anything for a while, maybe a small teaser/interlude if I get up to it but for now, nothing.**

 **I am sorry about the wait for this chapter. Truth be told I don't really have a schedule, just write whenever I'm motivated. Thus most of my other stories have nothing going on right now, though I am working on new chapters/rewrites of them. Slowly.**

 **Anyways, hope you had fun reading this. Tell me what you think and have a good day. Bye!**


	6. Our Foes Are Numerous

**A/N: Holy hell, I am really thankful for all the reviews you guys sent in! I never expected this story to get as much of a reception as it did, so thank you all very much for that! I know it's been a long wait, so here we go: arc 2, featuring more chapters than the original!**

 **In case anyone is unclear, the reason I'm splitting the story up into this is because I can release a lot of content within a short amount of time, and have plenty of time between arcs to think about what I'm going to write next and how to do it. Otherwise you might get 3-4 chapters over the course of two months, three months of writer's block, and then two chapters in two days.**

 **Also so I can end the last chapter of a given part of the story on a cliffhanger.**

 **Thank you again for reviewing, and now let's begin. It was the night before Christmas...**

* * *

 **ARC 2**

* * *

 _Earth, a long time ago_

 _A shard of glass crunched underneath Lucifer-12's foot, the noise sending the Exo jumping slightly in nervousness._

 _Artificial nervousness designed to mimic organic behavior, anyway._

 _The Hunter had been long accustomed to extended treks outside of the City. Whether it was to fight enemies of the Traveler or for his own entertainment, the quirky Bladedancer was no stranger to spending days searching through the remains of Earth for no reason other than to stave off his own boredom or fight enemies of the Light because he felt like it._

 _But this was beyond ridiculous._

 _"Where are we on that signal, Ghost?"_

 _A question born from both the Exo's concern and his irritation._

 _Lucifer felt his lifelong companion's presence in his neural network emerge briefly to speak, somewhat annoyed at being interrupted. "Still the same as the last few miles. From what I can tell, it's either far away or being jammed."_

 _Ghost made to move back into his mind to try and find an answer, but Lucifer stopped him. "From who? The Fallen?"_

 _Ghost entertained the thought. "Possibly."_

 _"Can you triangulate the source of the jamming?"_

 _"I don't even know if it is being jammed, Guardian. It could simply be behind multiple really thick walls."_

 _Lucifer allowed Ghost to leave after that mildly informative explanation, feeling the AI retreat into the deepest recesses of their mental connection. While it sorted through the data, he shuffled over to the window to see where he was._

 _He had been scaling this decrepit skyscraper from the ruins of Old America for what seemed like days now. After a long day of looking for Golden Age artifacts, the pair decided to investigate a Light source being emitted from an ancient skyscraper._

 _If only the Fallen hadn't infested the lower floors._

 _That was a setback neither of them had anticipated. The Shanks and Vandals were easy enough to deal with but that Captain had gotten lucky, he reflected as the wound that stretched across his back finally sealed on its own, wires and circuit boards gradually pulling themselves together._

 _The last six or seven floors had been completely empty, but the noises of heavy footfalls meant the Fallen were either above him or hot on his tail, and Lucifer could only guess where they were now._

 _Now all he had for company was the cracked paint, broken studio lamps, and a view of the rest of the decimated city at dusk. A few tattered curtains that had been bleached white by the sun fluttered weakly in the almost nonexistent wind, somewhat obscuring the destroyed remnants of Ancient St. Louis._

 _It was a depressing sight, honestly._

 _Lucifer didn't even realize how long he had spent captivated by the view until Ghost suddenly formed not an inch above his shoulder, making the Hunter arch a mechanical eyebrow._

 _"I have it, Guardian. Two floors above you and to the far eastern side of this building. That's where the Light is coming from."_

 _"...Right!" Lucifer said, suddenly gathering his thoughts as he turned from the window and marched towards the stairs, checking Backhanded Compliment once more. The hand cannon hadn't let him down yet, and if the last hundred dead Fallen were any indication, it wouldn't fail him anytime soon._

 _"It's weird too. Intermittent, but when it comes back the signal strength is incredible! Like-"_

 _"Ghost, kinda busy right now!" Lucifer shouted as he brought both his legs down to slide across the floor and against an overturned desk for cover. Bullets impacted all around him but none hit, and when he sprang up from cover..._

 _One shot, a Dreg fell to the ground grasping half of its broken-in face._

 _Two, three shots. Scratch one Vandal._

 _Uh oh._

 _He fired every remaining bullet he had into the Captain, but it just wasn't enough._

 _Twin swords that crackled with electricity were upon him in seconds, and the Exo bounded over the bullet-ridden desk right before it was cleaved in two in a whirlwind of sparks._

 _"Hate to rush you, but they're getting closer to the Light source, we're going to be too late if you don't finish this now!" Ghost yelled._

 _"I'm not sticking around here by choice!," came the android's hurried reply, grasping the wall to steady himself as both of his legs kicked the Captain backwards._

 _He didn't have time for this._

 _Light collected across the Exo Hunter's entire chassis in a brilliant display of azure light, coalescing around his knife—right as the Fallen Captain got back to its feet._

 _His Arc Blade became active in a flash of light and electricity. The knife glowed bright enough to light up the room, and the Captain came apart at the joints, literally. The dead Fallen collapsed to the ground in three distinct pieces, smoke curling off each of them even as Lucifer moved like a leopard, tearing apart the few soldiers between him and the next stairwell._

 _"Are we too late?" He asked while he was firing, the Light dissipating from his form. Two more dead Vandals._

 _"Wait. Behind that door, the one they were trying to get into," Ghost nudged, and Lucifer looked at the battered door._

 _He raised a foot and kicked it clean off its hinges before sweeping in, weapon raised out of instinct._

 _It was exactly like all the others thus far. Grey concrete walls, mostly destroyed desks, and rusted scrap metal everywhere as makeshift support._

 _Lucifer threw a glance over his shoulder to see if there were any Fallen behind him before confronting his Ghost._

 _"Some Light source, huh," he asked in sarcasm and disappointment._

 _"I do not understand, Guardian. I know the source was originating from here, but..."_

 _"But?" the Exo prodded._

 _Lucifer could practically feel the computer that was Ghost whirring as it tried to process the information. Was Ghost confused? "I... do not know, Guardian. It appears I was mistaken."_

 _No sooner had Ghost said that did the sound of a sudden hissing crackling noise originate from the doorway._

 _Lucifer whirled around, bringing one hand up to block the sword strike from the un-cloaked Major but failing to account for the fact that Fallen were four-armed._

 _Two jabs straight to his sternum sent him stumbling backwards and grasping for his knife, but the Vandal pounced on top of him, knocking the knife away and holding one of his arms down._

 _Lucifer felt simulated rage enter his thought processes. No one, NO ONE deprives a Hunter of their knife._

 _The Exo's artificial muscles and servos forced his head upwards, slamming it against the Fallen and sending it tumbling to the ground in pain. Lucifer waste any time, and in a moment he had one hand around the creature's neck while the other sent punches into its face. Repeatedly._

 _It finally died, eye sights dimming and mask deformed as Lucifer stared down its corpse before moving to retrieve his knife._

 _Ghost decided to choose that exact moment to appear, floating off the ground behind the Hunter. "Guardian? You may want to take a look at this."_

 _"Yeah I know. We've got Fallen incoming," he sighed._

 _"No, look!"_

 _Irritated but seeking to placate his Ghost, Lucifer turned, then stared in wonder._

 _Lying face down and half obscured by a tarp that must have come loose during the fight was the biggest creature he had ever seen, barring the Ogres. Wearing robes that were torn and burnt in so many places, was a distinctly humanoid creature._

 _Its head was obscured by a helmet that looked like it was about to come apart. Judging from the dust and debris that settled over it, the creature had been dead for decades at a minimum._

 _And yet it suffered no decomposition or other adverse effects, apparently._

 _"Ghost?" he asked cautiously as his handgun began to aim itself somewhere between the ground and the thing. "What is that?" he asked, although he felt like he knew the answer._

 _"It's the source! The Light source!" Ghost chirped excitedly, buzzing around the creature, blue lines washing over it in a grid before adding, "A human!"_

 _Artificial eyelids blinked, twice. Obscuring the bright blue light that made up the Exo's eyes. "Come again?" he asked in disbelief. The Light source, he could understand. He could sense it too. Even in death, this creature was radiating a small amount of Light. It was no wonder the Fallen were trying to get to him._

 _But a human?_

 _Ghost didn't answer at first, too occupied with its scans to pay him any attention before it snapped up with elation across its glowing 'face'._

 _"It's one of the humans from the Golden Age! They haven't been seen since the first Guardians were created," Ghost reflected, suddenly looking at the ground for a moment before perking up again._

 _"...But now we've got a new Guardian, one that could be stronger than any other before! Quick, hold off the Fallen. I might be able to resurrect him on my own-"_

 _As if purposely trying to interrupt him, there was a soft whistling noise as a new Ghost slipped through the room's broken ventilation shaft._

 _Ghost and Lucifer stared in shock, were they really about to see a Pre-Collapse human get revived? It paid the duo no mind, only repeating what Lucifer's Ghost had done. One quick scan of the corpse later, it whistled happily before turning into a metal ball surrounded by blue light._

 _And just like that, the supposed Golden Age human groaned before his new Ghost was in front of him, chirping happily before disappearing into his mind._

 _Now that Lucifer thought about it, this wasn't that different to when he was resurrected for the first time._

 _A guttural roar reached everyone's ears/audio receptors, the unmistakable sound of more Fallen. It was exactly like when he was resurrected, actually._

 _Retrieving an old auto-rifle from his storage, he held it out by the stock towards the new Guardian._

 _The prehistoric human stared at him from behind a black visor that was so beaten and scratched it looked like a stiff breeze would shatter it, but he accepted the rifle and Lucifer beamed with excitement along with his Ghost._

 _"Thanks," the human grunted out, coughing heavily before righting himself. Lucifer wondered if he should check on the man's health, but decided not to as the roaring grew nearer._

 _"Now listen, we don't have much time, lots of bad guys are approaching our position," Lucifer explained, the android letting his excitement affect him. "But we'll explain everything when this is over."_

 _This new Guardian towered over him, helmet scraping against the ceiling as he checked the battered auto rifle for damages. How could something this tall even exist? And he seriously needed to figure out something else to call him instead of new Guardian-oh right!_

 _The Exo slapped its forehead in an uncanny human-like gesture. "Where are my manners? My name's Lucifer, I didn't expect to see another new Guardian here too! What's your name?"  
_

 _The Guardian stopped examining the rifle, as if contemplating the question and struggling to remember._

 _Lucifer suddenly felt very guilty. Maybe he didn't remember his name? A lot of Guardians were like that. He still didn't remember what his name was when he was produced. He was about to issue a hasty apology before he was interrupted._

 _"Glatisant," he rumbled at last as he flipped the safety off._

 _The footsteps sounded so much closer now._

 _"Well, it's good to see you know how to use that," Lucifer added nervously, giving a half-hearted gesture towards the rifle. "I didn't have as much luck as you when I woke up!"_

 _Glatisant paused at that. "Woke up?" he asked, uncertainty added to his tone._

 _Lucifer waved a hand. "It'll all make sense later. Trust me. We've got bigger issues to worry about," to which Glatisant nodded, and the pair raised their weapons._

 _The Fallen were upon them in seconds._

* * *

If the few tales that he had overheard from the Guardsmen were to be believed, the Warp was, if you were lucky, a swirling purple maelstrom that would gradually drive you insane and send you vast distances in varying amounts of time.

And if you were unlucky, you'd end up eaten by Daemons or in the domain of the Chaos Gods, whoever they were.

The short descriptions of the other dimension was enough that when he was sent into the Warp, he wasn't surprised at the fact it was basically a tiny floating island of obsidian rock. Complete with a purple hurricane in the sky. Nor was he surprised that there was no Light whatsoever in it.

What was surprising was how abundant the twisted version of Darkness there was, and how much it _hurt_.

Ordinarily, the Light that was melded within him was more than enough to at the very least, keep him functional. Something even Atheon and Crota hadn't been able to take from him forever.

But in this place he felt his Light get snuffed out in an instant, starting from the wound on his elbow and allowing the Warp to reach him unfettered.

Glatisant's body contorted as he tried to scream in pain but only succeeded in gurgling, as though Chaos itself was choking his lungs with its foul energy. Ghost appeared in his mind, trying desperately to establish a connection through the literal sea of Chaos.

 _Guardia-_

 _ **"I SEE YOU, SAVIOR."**_

A mechanical voice that seemed to have come from the deepest levels of Hell reached out to him, tearing at the Warlock's very soul as his Light failed to fight off the overwhelming Darkness. It felt like someone was tightening a wrench made of fire around his chest, crushing and burning at him. Ghost's voice immediately cut out, disappearing from the neural network entirely.

Wait a minute, that voice. It was distorted yet familiar somehow, the Guardian realized. He only barely managed to turn his head to confirm his fears.

Eliphas appeared, walking towards him even though there was no ground to walk upon, just empty black space and purple whirlwinds as he approached the Guardian's little island.

 _ **"DID YOU THINK TO DEFEAT ME?"**_ he hissed, each step bringing him closer. _**"THAT YOU COULD ESCAPE?"**_

Despite his talk, there was a definite sluggishness in his steps, Glatisant realized. All the bullet holes and scorch marks had disappeared, but there was still a gash ripped into his stomach that didn't look to have closed completely. Maybe he could escape after all.

After all, it's not like Eliphas would want him to know that.

Then that damned sword appeared in his hand, and Eliphas leveled his other fist at him.

The Chaos Champion's storm bolter was firing before Glatisant even had time to register what was happening through the pain. Most missed, shattering the glassy stones and blasting black dust into the 'air' but more than enough hit the target.

Glatisant felt the impacts of no less than three direct hits, the first two completely depleting his shields and what little Light he hastily tried to shield himself with. The third and however many more from secondary explosions didn't just hurt him, they _ate_ at his very existence as he was sent skidding across the island, grasping the edge not a second too late. Sensors that still worked blared warnings as he retched blood made of Light, splattering against the inside of his helmet.

 _ **"THIS IS THE END OF YOU, SAVIOR,"**_ Eliphas boomed, footsteps making a crunching sound as he reached the floating island.

 _Ghost,_ Glatisant tried weakly as he racked his mind for options. Almost the only thing he could feel was agonizing pain, his robes and armor were stained black from fire and dust, and he felt like he was dying. The rocks shuffled, and he felt his grip loosen as the Guardian was forced to look down.

There was nothing but a swirling black mass below him. It pulsated, rippling like it had a heartbeat. Was it just the entrance to another part of the Warp? Or someplace worse?

Before Glatisant even had time to decide between the abyss and certain death by clinging on, the obsidian shards gave way along with what strength he had left after Eliphas fired again—and he fell into the hole.

As he became aware of a sudden roaring in his ears and his mind, the Warlock could clearly make out the sound of Eliphas, laughing.

The bottomless pit devoured him greedily, and forced him unconscious.

* * *

 _Elsewhere_

Farseer Elariel of Craftworld Ulthwé glared at the dead Wizard distastefully. The damned thing had put up quite the fight, its foul magics proving that they were in fact, a threat to the Farseer and her entourage.

What was strange was how she couldn't tell that it was going to happen. That she couldn't warn the Ranger who had fallen to the deadly blue spheres of light.

They had scooped up his spirit stone, treating the delicate soul-container with utmost care and reverence, and were preparing to move on. They had come this far. They could not turn back now.

"Stop," she said softly, idly flicking a hand and sending a lightning bolt into the body of a still-twitching thrall. The rest of her party paused, turning to face her even as they kept their weapons on a swivel for targets.

"I would like to examine this one. To see where it draws its power from," she gave an almost imperceptible nod to the dead Wizard, and the rest of the Rangers nodded. They wasted no time in taking up defensive positions around her, scanning the jungle for threats that might interrupt the Farseer.

Elariel steeled herself mentally and physically, and plunged herself into the realm of the Immaterium.

Dots that glowed softly with light, pulsating and flickering. She recognized them, of course. The familiar signatures of her escort, herself, and a few things she had never seen before.

They were, like most things that could be seen through psyker powers, blurry and not entirely making sense.

Where the Eldar and even races like the Mon-keigh had a clearly visible and radiant light to them, these ones did not. They were like black spots in the void, barely visible and seeming to _consume_ the very foundations of reality around them.

Just like the Daemons.

She breathed in sharply. It was all too much like She-Who-Thirsts. The endless desire to consume, to corrupt, to destroy. But this was necessary. The entire Seer Council had failed to account for these creatures and she intended to find out why. Fear would only be a weakness in this place.

Without further hesitation, she plunged into the fading mind of the Wizard.

* * *

 _A stark white landscape. No, not white. Grey. Blinding light that the Farseer couldn't see through. Her attention wasn't drawn to that, though. It was the structure she seemed to be involuntarily floating towards._

 _Vaulted and covered with rocks. Gothic architecture not unlike the Imperium, circling around something she couldn't see. Not a huge structure by any means, but there was a certain haunting elegance to these buildings that her Craftworld didn't produce and neither did the human's Hive cities. This place looked like the workings of a race that built with a purpose._

 _She couldn't even explain it to herself, but somehow the Farseer just knew there was significance in each stone. Every tower, every fortification served some sort of purpose beyond merely defending itself, but what was it? And why did it feel so familiar and so... oppressive?_

 _The view changed, and suddenly she was looking straight down the center of the coliseum-like structure. Into a gaping black maw that the blinding sunlight didn't penetrate. An involuntary tugging sensation started in her gut and she flowed down. Straight into the pit._

 _There was nothingness for a while. Then, a painful sensation and pale light. Her ears roared with blood, pressure building up painfully across her entire body. The Farseer prepared to leave, to burn the creature's mind and leave but she forced herself to stay. She had to find the root of this problem._

 _Just as she came to her conclusion, the pain mercifully stopped. Eyeing her surroundings, the Farseer found herself in a place unlike any she had seen before. Darkness that seemed to choke her simply by existing. Thousands, no, millions of glowing yellow eyes that stared and shrieked and ran._

 _She floated on. Past the dark maze. Through a ghostly castle and across a bridge of energy that defied all logic of a world based on reality._

 _Wherever she was right now was far away from anything familiar. There was nothing in the Warp or reality like it._

 _The vision changed to something stranger._

 _She was in a courtyard of sorts, flanked on both sides by high towers and legions of the Hive creatures. The buildings, the Hive, and the air too took on a sickly green glow. So unlike Chaos's signature shade of purple yet somehow just as malicious and radiating its own terrible power._

 _Perhaps the most alarming part of her surroundings was the sky. Strands of that same disgusting green light swayed like ribbons in the air, surrounding a blackened void. Was that were she entered this place from?_

 _But hanging in the sky was something that was truly ugly in every sense of the word. An... eye, for lack of a better term, surrounded by what looked like fragments from a destroyed planet. All in that same shade of sickly green and unmoving save for a few occasional pulses of unadulterated power._

 _Its very existence was wrong on a spiritual level and it disgusted the Farseer. It shouldn't exist. It was something that did not deserve to be remembered, to be seen._

 _The Farseer shivered. She got the impression that it saw right through the Wizard, that it could sense her, but that was impossible. Then the Hive began to chant._

 _Elariel forced herself to watch in mute fascination and revulsion. The words were barbaric and nonsensical, but they made sense in this place._

 _She floated on up to the top of a platform and raised a pair of bony claws._

 _Of course, this was the creature's memories._

 _The chanting only grew louder, each chorus producing sounds that were stranger, more guttural, and more horrifying._

 _"Kr-slaaak! Ythara ke derrv. Crota aaaaaarhzzha kran!"_

 _"Zran fa ORYX!"_

 _Her head started to pound and her heart began to race. Whatever this was, it was much, much more than a memory, the Farseer realized._

 _Memories couldn't do this._

 _Their terrible chanting ceased at least, and something far worse took its place._

 _Spindly claws stretched outwards openly to welcome the new arrival. Spectral fires blazed in front of her as a figure not unlike the Knights that surrounded her emerged._

 _Knights. Thralls. Wizards. She knew their names._

 _There was a name for the thing in front of her too, and her mind shuddered as it remembered it. Crota._

 _Crota was tall, taller than even the lanky Wizards that floated off the ground. She could see the abomination in all its glory, all glowing a pale shade of cerulean with wisps of something flaking off of it. So many glowing eyes and a sword that looked blunter but somehow more dangerous than anything the Farseer had ever seen._

 _The Hive continued their maddening chant, each word seeming to make Crota stronger. Every line seemed to make the lights that wreathed the colossus stronger. They pulsed and flashed with power with no signs of stopping—until Crota turned and looked straight at her._

 _Elariel felt every eye on her, and the chanting stopped. There wasn't a sound, and for all the millions of Hive staring at her, all was silent._

 _Then Crota moved._

 _It grasped her, one hand easily encompassing the Wizard's midsection, and lifted her up. Elariel wanted to leave, to abandon this foolish expedition into a creature whose mind she didn't fully comprehend, but she could not._

 _Crota was stopping her._

 _The Hive were shrieking now, the collective noise deafening to her ears and making the edges of her vision blurry as Crota spoke in a language that it shouldn't know._

 _"YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN THIS PLACE."_

 _It drove its sword straight through her eyes, and the vision ended._

* * *

Elariel gasped for air, falling ungracefully on her back against a mossy rock as the Rangers near her immediately took note. Two of them rushed towards her, helping her to her feet as they looked at her with obvious concern in their eyes.

"Honored Farseer, what is the matter?" Ronahn, another Ranger of Ulthwé questioned as she coughed lightly, gently pushing off of the Ranger and steadying herself.

"What did you see?"

Eyelids fluttered open. Once, she had a pair of beautiful electric blue eyes that could see into the future and strike fear into the hearts of her enemies.

But now, as Elariel's grey orbs came into view, she found she could see nothing at all.

* * *

 _Glatisant - Inventory:_

 _Item: "Reborn in Light"_

 _Upgrade: 'Hurricane' - Cost: Plasteel Plating and 300 Glimmer. This weapon becomes incredibly lightweight, allowing it to be drawn and swung with unparalleled swiftness. PURCHASED._

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the wait, everyone. I was busy with trying to come up with a story. I'm also sorry for the somewhat shorter chapter but the next events would take too long to write and I wanted to get this done.**

 **I mean, next chapter's gonna be longer so there's that. I'll put it up in like, 2-3 days or something. It's already written but I'm not** _ **as**_ **ahead as you'd think in writing chapters so I still need time to get the rest done to release in a timely matter.**

 **You may have noticed that some of the characters are different despite me saying that it would revolve around the Retribution campaign. And the only answer I can give to you is that Kayleth is fucking annoying and I'm just not ready to deal with that yet.**

 **Thank you again to everyone who reviewed. I love to read them regardless of what they have to say.**


	7. This Burden, Unbearable

**A/N: For anyone wondering, Aramus is the canon/default name for the player character/Force Commander in the DoW 2 series. I saw no reason to change it, and thus that's his name. Now you know.**

 **Oh right, and this being a whimsical crossover story, I'm not going to adhere exactly to the events of the DoW Retribution campaign. Mostly because I never played that game, only DoW II and Chaos Rising. Also there's like, nowhere on the internet where you can find an in-depth plot synopsis that I can loosely base this story off of.**

 **What I'm saying is, fuck it, I'll make my own story.**

 **But seriously, can we all agree that pricing it as 29.99 USD on Steam after like, five years from its release is absurd? Let's not even talk about the DLC.**

 **I'm gonna put all the responses to reviews at the bottom of this chapter though. Sorry I didn't get around to it last time, I was pretty lazy.**

 **Anyways, story time. It was a dark and stormy night...**

* * *

 _Aurelia, ten years ago_

 _"Such a feast of souls! I will enjoy tearing yours apart, Force Commander!"_

 _Ulkair's very existence had turned the atmosphere blood red, and the air around it for miles was filled with a pestilence that could have killed any lesser man and was enough to disorient Aramus._

 _But not entirely._

 _He got back to his feet, the Terminator armor allowing him to keep his footing in the face of the colossal shockwave when the Great Unclean One stomped the ground, shattering ice and cracking concrete._

 _Even as bolter shells exploded against the Daemon's sickening flesh, it gave no response to any of it, antlers atop its head swaying back and forth as it searched for Aramus._

 _Unfortunately for him, the Force Commander found him first._

 _A thunder hammer clasped firmly in his hands, Armus roared with fury as he brought it down, straight on top of the Daemon's spine. The weight and force behind it was more than enough to cause the Daemon to stumble forward, and gave everyone else an opening._

 _Cyrus sent shell after shell into the creature's head. Thaddeus strafed it with bolter fire before bringing a chainsaw to the grievous wounds inflicted upon it. Thule's servos groaned under the strain, but they pummeled the monster's flesh, each hit sending shockwaves running through the damned Warp entity._

 _And all the while, Force Commander Aramus was bringing the holy hammer down on top of the Daemon's skull again and again, holding onto the diseased flesh of its neck to keep himself steady as he battered Ulkair relentlessly._

 _"You are finished, Daemon," Aramus growled, driving the hammer one last time into the abomination's throat._

 _The Great Unclean One gurgled and they weren't sure if he was laughing or not._

 _"So be it," it rumbled in laughter, flesh already pitted with hundreds of bolter impacts and fresh gashes from their arsenal._

 _The hellish cleaver-like sword it had been wielding clattered to the ground, and the Blood Ravens stepped back as Aramus dropped to the ground, still holding a hammer ready to strike._

 _"Ah... the victory is yours, Blood Ravens," Ulkair bowed, and they ignored the stinging in their eyes, all of the survivors choosing to glare at the Daemon instead of retch. It only continued to gurgle happily, even in death._

 _"Death comes to all flesh, even that containing an essence as glorious as my own."_

 _With that, its entire body exploded._

 _Blood rained down all around them, the tainted fluids soaking into the ground, but it didn't matter to them. The air was clearing up._

 _"Such is the way of Nurgle," Ulkair's voice echoed in their skulls as the light of the damned retreated into the hole that it came from._

 _"But do not delude yourselves that your victory will last, little humans. This prison cannot hold me forever!" it laughed even as Aramus edged to the pit, glaring at the crimson red energy that swirled below him._

 _"It is cracked and weakened, and its architect now feasts on Nurgle's rotted fruit. You and your pathetic chapter will feel my hate again before long!"_

 _And with that final note, the angry red light dimmed and the voice ceased. Aramus breathed a sigh of relief. They had won._

 _He collapsed to the ground in exhaustion._

* * *

 _The Present_

Typhon Primaris was, like most jungle worlds, also a feral world. Not a single major settlement or great industrial center on the entire planet. Its only true value to the Imperium was its citizens. Hardy people who had lived their whole lives surviving and subsisting off of what they could, making them prime candidates for the Blood Ravens who frequented the planet.

As it turned out, spending most of your childhood and teenage years fighting Orks and dangerous wildlife was experience enough to qualify for Space Marine training.

The planet had clearly seen better days however. Even from orbit, black and brown marks where there had once been massive jungles were visible. Fires the size of small countries had raged as the Space marines, Orks, Tyranids, and Chaos itself had done battle on the surface. Still, much of the planet's considerable jungles remained intact.

And somewhere in those jungles, a hole in reality tore itself into being.

Purple Warp energy crackled and shot out into the jungle, frying any plants in the general area of it before it turned into a glowing sphere high above the ground—and roughly tossed the only living Guardian in the Milky Way out of it.

Glatisant woke up halfway before he hit the ground, and instinctively shot his arms out, wrapping them around a tree branch that almost shot past him at terminal velocity.

It splintered under the strain almost immediately.

The Warlock's Light finally came back to him, and he utilized it immediately. A few yards before he slammed into the ground, his entire body lit up with purple energies—although not of Chaos. It was a calm, gently swirling aura of Light that slowed his descent. The air around him blurred and shifted before he landed on the grassy floor, stumbling as he did.

And then he became aware of a horrific feeling from his right elbow and he dropped to the ground, screaming.

Glatisant had been shot, set on fire, electrocuted, strangled, had most of his bones broken, and felt the crushing force of Darkness before. Like any Guardian more than two hours old, he knew what pain was.

But it wouldn't be right to label this as simple _pain._ This was more like having your mind forcibly comprehending a sensation an order of magnitude worse than the worst kind of agonizing pain to exist. All of his constitution and willpower meant absolutely nothing in the face of the overwhelming force.

Worse than that, was the feeling of _wrongness_ that was coming from the wound.

Guardians were the anathema of Darkness. Born from the Traveler and his Ghosts, Light flowed through their veins like a river and purified them of Darkness.

But now it felt like a piece of the Warp, that Traveler-forsaken hellhole, had burned a piece of itself into him. Had taken all its twisted and fucked up energy and forcefully branded it into his system.

His vision seemed to lose all color and his head felt so heavy, the helm flattening the grass even as Ghost came back online.

"Guardian! What's- oh, _shit_."

Ghost had formed above him, and it seemed the AI grasped the gravity of the situation.

Glatisant was sprawled on the ground, grasping his injured arm in agony as Ghost flitted about him, trying to figure out what to do.

It wasn't a pretty sight, now that Ghost could see it.

The Guardian's right arm was barely attached at the elbow joint, connected by a few bands of muscle fiber that hadn't been sliced by the daemonic blade. Light dribbled freely from the wound, bleeding into the soil and sticking to a few blades of grass. All the armor around it was _burnt_ , like the sword had been made of lava.

 _Guardian! Can you hear me?_ Ghost pleaded, desperately searching its databases for anything on how to heal his Guardian.

 _Urragahaaaaah!_ came the response.

Thinking as quickly as it was capable, Ghost shot out a beam of blue Light into the wound, and Glatisant stopped twitching momentarily. Encouraged, it continued, pouring more of the healing energy into the wound.

"This is bad, Guardian," it murmured, unsure if its lifelong companion could even hear or comprehend what he was saying. "I've stabilized you for now, I think. I've never dealt with any wounds like this before. Can you hear me now?"

Glatisant's vision was still fixed on his injured arm, and the leftover Light that trickled from it before his mind registered that firstly, he could think, and second, Ghost asked him a question.

"I think so," he croaked out, coughing as tried to get up.

Tried being the most important word as his vision instantly gave out along with his legs. His helmet crushed an unlucky vine on the jungle floor as Ghost beeped in alarm.

"Guardian- dammit!"

Ghost let loose a mechanical sound of exasperation and worry as its optic looked at Glatisant and the jungle around him. It fixed its sights back on its Guardian, patience gone.

"Like I may have said before, _I've never dealt with wounds like that before,_ " Ghost reminded him, giving emphasis to his statement. "So I'm not even sure if I can get your arm to heal completely. Do _not_ get back up until you at least rest for a little while," it added.

Glatisant grunted. It wasn't agonizing anymore, but it still felt like he was being branded by a red hot iron. "What happened?" he managed between wheezing gasps for air. The feeling of having his lungs constricted was still lingering, even after leaving that place where no Light shone.

The little pyramids and other shapes that made up Ghost's body shifted as it struggled to come up with a proper answer. "Just a theory, but being it's so saturated in Chaos, the Warp attacked you, trying to forcefully remove your Light from itself. As your Light is also what keeps you alive, that may explain the intense pain."

"I didn't know the Warp can act on its own. Isn't it supposed to be made of emotions?"

"Correct, and apparently it can. Whatever Daemons or spirits reside within it did _not_ like the presence of your Light one bit, and tried to tear you apart for it. You're lucky none of them attacked directly."

"I suppose you didn't see Eliphas then."

" _He came back?_ " Ghost turned his full attention to the Guardian in front of him, clearly demanding an answer.

The Guardian sighed, then gave a slight cough at the effort. He took in several short breaths to answer the question.

"Yelled for a bit. Shot me, and I fell into a pit," Glatisant answered tiredly. "I only heard you try to call for me and then you were gone. Like you were only able to stay active for a second."

"That is... troubling," Ghost noted. "But it explains why I was knocked offline. When Chaos tried to... integrate with you, it must have taken me offline. Not to mention sending us far away, considering we were in a city in the desert. And we're in a rainforest. I'm going to need to go over the data from that encounter again, maybe I can stay active when fighting things like him again."

"Uh-huh," the Warlock said, hissing slightly as he adjusted his sitting position. At least the lovely feeling of cold numbness from painkillers and other medical drugs he equipped his armor with was doing its job. They slowed his thought processes slightly, and he took a few moments to compose his next question. "Speaking of, where is here, do you know?"

A familiar grid of blue light contrasted against the midday sunlight, washing over their general area as Ghost tried to match it to anything in his database.

"No idea," Ghost admitted. "The Guardsmen didn't tell me much about this 'Aurelia' Subsector. I just know there are four worlds, used to be five, and that they're called Aurelia, Calderis, Typhon Primaris, Cyrene and Meridian."

It was a while before Glatisant responded, either because he was processing the information or his wound was the most attention-grabbing thing at the moment. "And did they tell you what those planets are like?"

"Only their names. If what they told us about the Warp is to be believed, we may not even be in the same sector."

"..."

"Guardian?"

Glatisant gave a start at that. "Sorry, was lost in the feeling of getting stabbed by a sword made of what I can only assume to be the souls of the damned."

Ghost's optic looked anywhere but Glatisant for a few moments. "You're not far off, if the rumors those Guardsmen were spreading around are to be believed."

Only then did it click that Ghost had mentioned how there _used_ to be another planet.

"What did you mean earlier? About there used to be five planets and now there are four?"

"If you rest I'll tell you later," came the exasperated reply.

"Fine. Truth be told, just talking is a bit of a chore right now," Glatisant answered, trying not to forget to ask about it later.

Ghost went back into his mind and Glatisant gave no outward response to it. He simply sat against the jungle floor, waiting to see if his arm would heal or if it would stay like that. Forever.

It was not a prospect he relished, and idly Glatisant wondered if using Radiance would clear it. As the time passed, he began to wonder. Questions like where the Traveler had gone or if it was dead began to bubble in his thoughts. Even knowing that right now was the damned _41st Millennium_ had left him with more questions than answers.

But for now, there was nothing he could do but try and rest, he realized. With a sigh, Glatisant rested his helmet against the trunk of a tree and tried to think on anything that wasn't the throbbing pain in his arm.

Hours passed. The sun rose from what looked like its midday position and began to set, coating the woods in darkness.

 _Now's as good a time as any,_ he told Ghost, and the AI agreed, hesitantly. He began to stand up, mercifully without any sudden dizziness.

The pain had gradually faded to a dull series of pulses, like a second heartbeat. Each one sent shockwaves of pain coursing through his body, but Glatisant tuned it out. Experimentally, he reached out to a tree for support, but found he didn't need it.

 _How's your arm doing?_

He looked. The robes and armor plating had stitched themselves back together, but he could still _feel_ the wrongness of the presence within him. Ghost had patched up the wound as best as it could, and between his passive healing and the Light within him it looked completely normal.

But even his Light did nothing to stop the weirdly itchy sensation that the Chaos-inflicted wound brought.

 _Not great. Definitely feeling weaker, but not like it's going to snap off or anything._

 _Thank the Traveler. We'll have to keep monitoring it. I have confidence that the wound itself will heal in only a few days at most, but the Chaos that tried to enter you, I'm not so sure about. Now..._ Ghost began to wonder.

 _Where do we go from here?_

There was barely any light to illuminate the wooded area but it didn't matter to Glatisant. The Guardian's body acted as a lantern, creating a small lit up area in a radius around him. Also the vision systems built into his helmet worked, surpsingly. _Any signs of civilization? That would be a start._

 _One moment-_

 _And while we're on the subject, can you bring up my Sparrow?_

 _One thing at a time. And maybe._

He simply stood still for a few seconds, waiting patiently for Ghost to scan the area. A somewhat hilly expanse littered with grass, trees, and rock formations.

 _Got it. Ruins of some type of structure, only a few kilometers away from here. It's why I was able to pick it up so fast,_ Ghost proclaimed proudly, and Glatisant rolled his eyes.

 _There is a chasm between us and it, however. So you'll need to find a way around it. Also, I can get you your Sparrow but it's going to take time. It's a good thing we kept a copy of it on your own Transmat since the ship's nowhere to be seen._

 _Yeah..._

What happened to his ship anyway? Was it captured along with him? Before the Warlock was able to ponder this for longer than a second, a diamond-shaped waypoint appeared on his HUD. A waypoint that was seven kilometers away.

 _A few kilometers, right?_

 _Walking won't hurt you._

 _I don't know about that._ Regardless, he couldn't think of a better solution. Glatisant drew his sword and began to march forward, silently bemoaning how he had taken having a Sparrow, a ship, and his friends for granted. The somber train of thought kept him from speaking, and it seemed Ghost had nothing to say either.

It was a while before either of them spoke up again.

Glatisant cut down the thick jungle undergrowth.

A small animal with scales and feathers hissed at them before fleeing.

Night fell across the jungle.

Two kilometers to go.

Finally, Ghost spoke up.

 _But are we going to talk about how Eliphas could have, you know, just rolled you over while he was pushing his sword against yours and stabbed you in the chest or something?_

 _I know, right?! What a fuckin' idiot._

The duo shared a laugh at that. It felt so relieving, like they could just ignore all the tension they were under for a brief few moments.

Besides, Glatisant snorted, he had been wondering if anyone else had noticed that too. Eliphas was either really arrogant or really stupid.

Then the tree trunk closest to Glatisant exploded in a shower of splintered wood chips and he dropped to the ground on instinct as gunfire and the most out of place cockney accent he ever heard shouted from across the field.

"WHERE YA GOIN' SHINY? WEZ JUS' WANTIN' TO TALK TO YA!"

 _Orks!_ Ghost exclaimed.

 _MOTHERFUCKER._

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

Somewhere, in a slice of reality that was neither the Warp nor the material realm, a being began to stir.

It had been inaccessible for millennia. Its entrance was destroyed, the Hellmouth having long since been overrun by humans. All the tunnels were collapsed, the fortifications destroyed. The last traces of the Hive burned away to dust that was left forgotten.

But they could not destroy the world that it led to. And their predecessors couldn't kill the being it contained. Not forever. Defeated but not gone, only sleeping until someone awoke them.

And someone had.

A sea of armored chitin and nightmarish claws surged in what looked like a completely disorganized mess. As they continued their stampede, it became clear there was a pattern. One that accounted for just how fast and how large and how mobile each and every individual was.

These were beings that moved and thought with a purpose, converging on a single location.

Too many eyes to count bobbed and swarmed around the being, clicking, growling, and shrieking. They had found Him.

He was exactly where the slaves to the Traveler had left Him. They howled in anguish and rage, seeing the damage the brutes had done to Him. Turned their own weapons against them, brought the Oversoul to its knees and slain their king.

It had been a long time since his death, this they knew. The Outsider had shown them that much. A feeble mind that failed to protect itself from them. At least it held a lot of knowledge of what lay beyond their home.

Knowledge of a galaxy wracked by war and strife. Of a place where even the greatest of civilizations were fighting for their very existence. It was just what they were looking for.

All that was necessary now, was a little time. They could wait. It wouldn't be much longer now.

Somewhere, in the dark below, something evil awoke.

* * *

 _I thought they were kidding when they were telling us about those things! Dammit!_ Glatisant exclaimed as bolter shells continued to fall upon his position, keeping him suppressed.

 _Apparently not. Just stay alive while I try and get you your Sparrow._

The Guardian recoiled backwards as gray, cylindrical device landed on the ground directly in front of him. And then he realized it was probably a grenade.

The dirt it blasted everywhere from the explosion confirmed that suspicion, but he had already vaulted over the fallen tree and was already running. Now that he wasn't pinned down by the withering hail of bolters, he finally got a good look at his enemies.

If the situation weren't so pressing, Glatisant might have laughed.

Squat creatures that were rippling with muscle, gaudy shades of green and armor that looked like something scavenged from the old junkyards on Earth. Complete with cartoonish fangs and guns that looked like they should have bowled over anyone not made up entirely of muscle from the recoil.

But what kept the situation from being completely funny was the aura that they possessed. It was magnitudes weaker than the one those cultists and Daemons had, and not as pervasive, but still present, and with all the evils it had the last time.

Then the Nobs opened fire and he was unable to keep observing.

The plants all around him were turned to mulch by the explosive impact of their shells alone. Glatisant felt his shields repel one, two bolts, but on the third direct impact he felt his shields collapse.

A bolter skipped off his injured arm and he swore as his vision swam with pain. The Warlock collapsed to the ground, rolling far to the right to land in a wide ditch.

He cursed. Now he was in the middle of the field, with hostiles who had him locked down.

"COM'ERE, SHINY! WE PROMIZ NOT TA KILL YA! NOW WEZ CAN DO 'INGS DA EZY WAY, OR WE CAN DO TINGS DA 'ARD WAY!"

 _I don't believe them. At all._

 _Neither do I. There's more than one way out of this, though._

His right arm protested with pain but Glatisant shook it off. Like they had a thousand times before, his palms came alive with solar energy—and he slammed them into the air, setting the jungle ablaze.

He could hear the Orkz give a shout of alarm, and capitalized on the few seconds of surprise he wielded by jumping as high as he could to the left, strafing them with Hard Light.

A few Boyz died, their limbs flailing and spasming as the deadly Arc energy fried them. It was an inaccurate and short-lived burst of gunfire that served primarily to aid in his distraction as the fire spread.

A few shots from Lord of Wolves later, and the arson continued. A tree right next to their firing lines roared with fire, crashing directly on top on a pair of gunners.

Unfortunately, it seemed the Orks were more concerned with the fact he shot fire from his hands less than the fact that their surroundings were on fire.

"E'Z PICKED DA 'ARD WAY! KILL THAT WEIRD GIT!"

Ghost shared its thoughts on the matter. _I'm trying so hard right now to not laugh._

 _Between their speech and getting shot, I honestly don't know how to feel about this._

"WAAAG-" The first Nob who tried to charge his new position was blasted backwards without a head. No Land Beyond still proved it could kill anything mortal.

Two cracks that sounded so different from the Ork's crude attempts at weaponry split the air, and another pair of Nobs well to the ground. It was around this time that Glatisant began to realize however, that he was almost out of bullets for his sniper rifle, and there were a lot more Orks than he expected. And they were all recovering much faster than he expected from the sudden inferno.

 _Picking up additional contacts, more Orks!_ Ghost warned even as his Guardian darted to the side of the trench, narrowly avoiding the oversized combat knife of a Kommando that managed to get close.

"'EY! I'Z S'PPOSED TO BE ALL SNEAKY-LIKE! YA CAN'T SEE ME!" it protested while he dodged another swing of its weapon.

 _Can you find us an exit?_ Glatisant requested while grappling with the creature. He grabbed it by the wrist and twisted it a way the wrist was never meant to bend, eliciting a howl of pain before roundhouse kicking it off the small ledge he was on, but the Kommando was already getting back up.

The Guardian cursed, these things were a lot more resilient than the Cultists.

 _And hurry. Please._

 _Working on it._

These Orks, as dumb as their accent made them appear were clearly skilled in warfare, at least. They were already advancing while keeping him suppressed, and movement in the jungle showed they were pressing in from all sides.

 _Well the first exit is on fire. New route, directly behind you and then a hundred meters to your right, it'll lead you to the ruins I found earlier._

 _I thought it was still farther than that?_

 _The ruins are spread out over an area, this'll just lead you to the outlying area- look out!_

Ghost's warning came just in time, and the Sunsinger bounded into the air, gliding away as a mortar shell made a crater out of where he had been.

A Nob was right in front of him when he landed, wielding an axe outfitted with chainsaw teeth. It spun up dangerously as soon as he came into view, but Glatisant was quicker. Just as the axe head came down, he used the speed from gliding to roll forward, coming up right beside the Ork.

It snarled and quickly swung the gigantic axe at him horizontally, knocking the Guardian sideways as it caught him—while he shot his arm out to grab the two handed weapon.

The Nob suddenly found its momentum used against it as the Warlock fell with his back to the ground and jerked the axe sideways, the force enough to shake the Nob's grip and send it flying through the air.

He didn't have a moment to lose, bolter shells rained all around him and gave the Guardian new incentives to run. Swiftly grabbing the comically huge chainsaw-axe as he ran, the Warlock sent another inaccurate burst of auto-rifle fire backwards to try and delay them.

The Guardian pushed aside the Nob he had thrown, knocking it to the side as it shouted upon seeing his axe. "E' STOLE MY CHOPPA!.. EY, ANYWUN OF YOU GITS GOT A SPARE?"

"THIS AIN'T A DISPENS'RY!"

"WOTCH OUT, E'Z CLEAVIN'!"

Glatisant cut both arms off one of the Boyz that got in his way, incapacitating it and allowing him to shove the blunt end of it into another that got into his way. It was staggered, and a second shove was all it needed to trip backwards and fall through empty air across the cliff.

Only now did Glatisant look and realize that the rocks and grass he was traversing were on a cliff face hundreds of feet in the air. He couldn't even see whatever was below, it was obscured by fog.

 _If you were wondering, that's the chasm I was telling you about earlier,_ Ghost answered his unspoken question. _They're catching up, if you can get into those buildings up ahead we might be able to lose them or force them into a chokepoint._

 _You really think that'll work?_

 _Worth a shot. Highlighting the structures on your HUD now._

He almost didn't see them, a pair of rectangular buildings that were so green from centuries of neglect and overgrowth that they blended into the view. Although they did look sturdy enough, and he wasn't going to try and fight the entire Ork force in the open.

He threw open the doors, shoving the heavy axe's handle between its handles to barricade them as he scaled the stairs, and when he reached the top, Glatisant found himself staring down the barrel of an Eldar Shuriken Rifle.

It glowed blue, then fired.

* * *

 _Glatisant - Inventory:_

 _Item: "Reborn in Light"_

 _Upgrade: 'Excalibur' - Cost: 1 Exotic Shard. This weapon bestows divinity upon the user, allowing them to passively gain a resistance to Darkness and Chaos-based attacks. Grants passive health regeneration and a bonus to shields when equipped._

 _PURCHASED._

* * *

 **A/N: DUN DUN DUUUN!**

 **This chapter took a while to write, for a lot of reasons. Ork speech. The Darkness. The Guardian. Bweh.**

 **Reviews!**

 **LordGhostStriker: As for closing warp portals?** _ **Maybe**_ **. Dunno what you mean by troops though, as far as I know, the Guardians can't summon anything to fight for them beyond their Ghosts.**

 **Eipok: The entire conversation between the Guardian and his Ghost prior to the Ork party is dedicated to you. Also yeah, 'scary bug chitin ppl' is what I was going for.**

 **Terror Dark Calws Army: Truth be told, I** _ **really**_ **wanted to write about the Tau but I also have no clue where to begin reading up on them. I'm not ruling it out though, just might take me a while.**

 **ULTRAMARINE59: Thanks, hope this is living up to your expectations! Next chapter is coming soon!**

 **MeleeSmasher: You are not wrong, 6 is basically entirely a setup to this chapter in particular.**

 **Guest: That would be pretty goddam terrifying. Although Ghosts are spawned from the Traveler and they tended to die with their Guardians. The Programmable matter of glimmer could be useful to the Imperium, lots of practical applications. As for your other questions, those will be answered with time. *Rubs hands together***

 **speaker of babbel: I'd also throw in the Cabal. Well-organized and extremely deadly, obviously conquered many systems before Sol. But in terms of destroying the galaxy, yeah, the Hive and Vex have that on lockdown.**

 **thefluffyone93: Crota's a busy guy, he doesn't have time for every door to door Farseer selling cookies. Sure is a good thing Oryx isn't around though! For now.**

 **Thank you everyone for your reviews and I will see you next time!**


	8. Our Enemies Are Relentless

**A/N: Hello again. I don't have anything I feel like talking about today so I'm just going to go over some of the reviews.**

 **I'm also going to put my response to reviews at the bottom of each chapter, since I assume most of you come here for the story and not to hear me to talk. Plus it stops there from being a giant blob of black text at the top of the story, which is nice.**

 **See that, guys? I'm learning. With every mistake, we get a little better.**

 **I should probably get around to writing the chapter. By the way guys, I'm sorry it took so long. Basically real life got in the way and I'm not doing too well.**

 **Also I was playing Terraria. Dat new update.**

 **Now enough about that, chapter eight!**

* * *

 _Hive World Meridian, Present Day_

No one truly comprehended the sheer mass of a Hive World's cities until they ever set foot on them. There was a certain sense of awe that a population chart reading in the tens of billions couldn't inspire. Even the pictures of city-spires that kissed the sky and the urban districts that spanned continents could not be completely understood until one saw it in person.

Not that most people ever got the chance to appreciate it. When more than half the population slaved away in the lasgun factories all day, the metal hive stopped being awe-inspiring and became mundane. If it weren't for their devotion to the God-Emperor, most people would have nothing to stop them from dragging their feet purposelessly as they shuffled to their work shifts.

Jon Credis however had the good fortune to be distantly related to a noble on Meridian, and as a result was given enough money to buy a small farm on one of the very few remaining areas of the planet that was not an industrialized zone. A handsome sum that the nobility grudgingly gave him as long as he would 'stop making a fool out of the family name and leave.'

Which was fine with Jon since he didn't think too highly of them either.

The money had lasted him a few years. Between his savings and the farm's produce, he had been able to go almost a decade without having to so much as set foot in any of the planet's hive cities.

 _But everything comes to an end eventually,_ Jon thought to himself dryly as he finished putting on the hazard suit that would be able to resist the heat in the factory he worked part-time at. He frowned, briefly struggling to tie his boots after realizing he had already put on a pair of heat resistant gloves before a pair of hands tied them for him.

He smiled at her from his position on their bed, but he doubted she could see behind the suit's mask. "Thanks dear."

Cassandra returned his smile and pulled him up, smiling at him too. Years of manual labor with her husband on their farm had made her hands calloused and added a few wrinkles in her brow that made her look ten years older than she was. Even her eye sockets were slightly sunken, but they still glowed with life.

"No problem, Jon. When'll you be back today?" she asked, yawning halfway through the question as morning light seeped in through the windows.

"Not too long today, probably before sundown," he assured her. _Believe me I don't work at the factory by choice,_ he wanted to say, but they already had a lot to worry about, and given that it was his idea to start working there, Jon didn't want to let her know how he actually felt about it. "I'll be home in time for dinner, Victor said that the new workers are going to be taking over our shift early for us."

"They better," she replied. "I don't trust the slop they serve there. You want some breakfast?"

 _Yes,_ his mind said.

"No thanks, might wake the kids, and I'll be late soon. You've got everything handled, right? I saw some holes in the field near the orchard. So if you can-"

"Jon," she interrupted him, staring where she thought his eyes should be behind the suit's face-shield. "I can take care of a little farmwork on my own, trust me. _You,_ " she said, poking him in the chest, "-ought to focus on trying to have a good day at work. Don't worry so much about everything."

Jon briefly felt irritated, and a little stressed about whether she knew enough about horticulture from what he'd been able to teach her since he married her but stopped himself. She was right. Maybe it was just the stress getting to him. He took a deep breath, a grating sound as the suit's filter strained itself.

"You're right, sorry. I just... got ahead of myself," he admitted, laughing slightly at himself. "You were right," he repeated.

"I always am," she returned good-naturedly before giving him a peck on his visor and then making a face. "I forgot that you work at a forge," she coughed out, wiping ash off her lips.

Jon chuckled and made for the hallway. "See you tonight."

His wife's voice echoed around their small house. "Have a good day!"

As if that was possible with a job like his.

He closed the door behind him gently, and began the part of his day that he found almost as boring as actual work itself. Walking to the transport station. He sighed, dearly missing the days when he could work for only seven or so hours a day on his farm and rest in the meantime.

But the Emperor's work is never done, he reminded himself, and picked up the pace. It still felt like it was night, what little sunlight the early morning permitted made the dirt road look purple. It was hardly even a road, just a winding path of slightly more worn-down than usual dirt that lead to the outskirts of the city.

Still, it was a far sight better than where he worked. Soon enough, the natural path gave way to a few abandoned shanty towns and slums of Meridian, their own occupants still asleep at the time. He hesitated for a moment, remembering the last time he'd made the mistake of walking through there while gangers frequented it. Jon flipped open his chronometer nervously.

"Dammit," he whispered to himself. Being late generally meant pay being docked, and pay being docked defeated the whole purpose of adding metalworking to his farming career. Which meant he would have to take shortcuts.

Jon took one hurried glance—time was of the essence—before he began to briskly cut through the outlying slums. It wasn't ideal, and more than once he'd been robbed for all the Throne Gelt he was carrying. Which admittedly wasn't much, but it was a setback he could barely afford.

Only a few people were awake at this hour, and they barely paid him any attention as they began to go about their daily lives, groggy from sleeping. He was sure that he stood out from them in his faded yellow full-body suit, but apparently everyone was too tired to care about him this time around. He thanked the Emperor for small mercies.

And about a block away from the transport station, right as he was passing an alley sandwiched between two long-abandoned buildings, two bony appendages wrapped around his ankles and pulled him to the ground.

"Hey! G-" he started before _something_ plunged into his chest. It was so sudden and so painless that he almost didn't notice, except it was hard to miss the facts that he was lying on his back in an alley, and that there was a thin black mass protruding out of his midsection.

People passed by the alleyway, not even sparing a glance to look inside as they hurried to catch the next transport to the closest industrial district.

Jon tried to shout, to scream for help, to no avail. The thing that was lodged into him was spreading something through his body, he couldn't tell what. It felt like sap and tar and chemical weapons mixed together, locking up his joints and making it impossible to do anything. Only a few seconds had passed, but his limbs were already refusing to obey him, and that's when the creature that grabbed him came into view.

 _No eyes,_ his failing mind was instantly able to pick out. It had no eyes and no nose. Only a stark white bony shell made up its face, with a pair of powerful looking jaws that stared at him hungrily but held back. It didn't close in for the kill, only staring him down with its alien skull.

He couldn't even ask why as he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

The Thrall bowed its head, its task was almost completed. Grabbing the suited human by the ankles, it continued to drag him further into the alley, away from the encroaching sunlight and the other humans.

It opened its mind to the rest of the Hive, and felt their familiar and comforting presence as they inspected his handiwork.

 _Yes,_ they decided. It would be enough. It was slow, painfully so, but it was working nonetheless. They had waited before, and could do it again. There was nothing could stop His return.

The Darkness trickled out of the human's wound and poisoned the ground.

* * *

 _Typhon Primaris, Present Day_

It must have been the stress, Elariel decided. Stress, crippling blindness, the incessant jungle humidity, and the brief spout with the Orks.

Whatever the case, it caused the fairly young Farseer to lose her temper.

"What were you thinking?!" she bellowed towards the sound of the gunshot's origin. Crota had stolen away her sight of both the material and immaterial realm, but not her other senses, honed by centuries of combat.

It still made things difficult to tell what was going on, but she knew that they had just committed a grave mistake.

"That creature was going to attack us!" an unfamiliar voice answered her, one of the Rangers who hadn't spoken up to her before. "I was trying to-"

"That _creature_ " she replied venomously, "is the only hope for this planet, and by extension, the only chance we will have to save the Craftworld buried beneath its surface."

Elariel didn't need her sight, mystical or physical to know that the Ranger was cowering slightly, clearly not used to having the pressure of immense failure or the wrath of a Farseer upon him.

"And you killed it."

"So what now?"

Ronahn spoke up for the first time since arriving in the tower, gesturing to the sprawled-out black and white pile of robes on the floor.

"If our so called 'only hope' in your blasted prophecy is dead, then what path do we take?"

"I-" she started, then stopped, thinking.

The Farseer had rarely been in a position where she was with only her most basic of Psyker abilities. Without them, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and weakened.

Just then, the Eldar scouting party heard the unmistakable sound of crude weaponry being fired and the jungle being flattened.

"Orks," another Ranger, wasn't that Sauril? said. By the sound of things, it was coming from the rocky platform they had spotted to the east.

"Well I hope your prophecy accounted for this," Ronahn grumbled. "Sauril, Ìris, head to the first floor and keep them from getting inside. The rest of you, with me. Farseer, stay here."

Elariel didn't complain about how the former Pathfinder was taking control of a situation he had relented to letting her be in charge of, sliding back against the wall and grasping her bladed staff as she sat. What were they going to do? Prophecies could be unreliable, that much she acknowledged. But how could it go so wrong so immediately? Could they have missed such a big mistake so early on or was there something else at work here?

A piece of the wall came apart in a shower of dust and shrapnel somewhere to her right, causing the Farseer to roll forward evasively as the rest of her team scattered. Elariel's boots nudged against something, and as she dropped a hand to the ground to check experimentally-

Yes, that was its corpse. The _Dyann yi Iyri._ Its armor felt strange, like some parts were solid metal and others were some sort of fabric, soft and durable. And very slick with blood.

The Farseer kneeled down and outstretched her arms, reaching out to channel Warp energies through her hands. Maybe it wasn't too late. If she could act fast enough, then maybe she could do something to fix it. All she needed to do was just use her abilities and...

Elariel gasped with effort. Normally, the currents of the Warp and its treachery were somewhat difficult to navigate, but no trouble had ever befallen her like this.

It was like someone had encased her in a field separating her from the rest of the Warp. Whenever she tried to break free of it, to shatter its prison-like hold on her, it only gave her a bout of nausea and headaches in reward, fresh currents of pain coursing through her marble-gray eyes.

Elariel cursed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She couldn't even use her most basic of abilities, what use was she?

The sound of gunfire being exchanged, from the rapid pings of shuriken weapons to the blasts of bolters picked up, and the Farseer could clearly make out the sounds of yelling.

"Go outside, we can cut through them and-" Ronahn's words were cut off by a pair of earth-shaking explosions that rocked the entire building, causing it to crumble and break after centuries of neglect and battle damage finally took its toll on the battered architecture.

Just before a boulder the size of a human head knocked Elariel into a deep sleep, she wondered why the _Dyann's_ body felt so warm, even in death.

* * *

For the few seconds that Radiance brought on, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from Glatisant's shoulders. All the pain and all the soreness was briefly removed from him in full as golden Light wrapped itself around him protectively, a shield that had proven able to stand up to any assault he had faced so far.

But, he noted with distaste, it faded soon enough, and the familiar lances of throbbing discomfort from his wound was back again, along with the ever-growing sense of nonstop fighting since waking from a very unrelaxing sleep. At least he managed to dig himself out the pile of moss covered bricks he found himself in.

 _Ghost, situation update,_ Glatisant requested as once again, he took notice of being under attack. Familiar yellow tracer bolters made small craters in the ground around him, and the satisfying weight of Against All Odds was in his hands.

 _You died to some individuals that are either Eldar or Tau, based on the descriptions that the Guardsmen gave me,_ Ghost answered calmly. _I couldn't tell, didn't have enough details on what they look like nor enough time to view them. Also, the Orks have caught up to you._

 _So I noticed,_ he responded dryly before hefting the machinegun over the small pile of bricks he was using as cover. It wasn't the fastest firing weapon he had, feeling less like a machinegun and more like a fast scout rifle, but it more than made up for that weakness with other things, like accuracy, reload speed-

And damage. He grinned as a highly accurate stream of fire erupted from the heavy weapon, tearing into the Ork opposition. Several of the smaller ones died to just one hit, and the Nobs didn't fare much better. In short order, he had already developed a firing pattern that didn't waste a single shot and downed enemies relentlessly. One shot center mass for any Ork that was smaller than six feet tall, and anything bigger got three to the chest and two to the head.

It also helped that they were all clustered around the bridge of land connecting the landmass they were coming from to the _remains_ , he noted, of the structure he used to be hiding in.

Glatisant frowned at that. Bottlenecked and unable to effectively pursue him over the withering hail of weapons fire, the Orks were barely a threat at this point, but what had become of whoever had killed him?

The Guardian tried to find an answer to that question, eyes scanning all sides of the battlefield for anything he might have missed, but there was nothing. Just the remnants of the building, and the Orks ahead of him.

A fact that was punctuated when they capitalized on the sudden lack of suppressive fire and began to advance, firing wildly but getting lucky more than enough to force him back into cover. Glatisant felt himself growl unconsciously. Without having the building for cover and elevation, the only advantage he had was that the Orks were forced into a chokepoint, and that was rapidly fading away as they spread out.

A flurry of glowing blue shards that vaguely reminded him of the Fallen's weaponry came from behind the pile of rubble from the second building, and out sprang creatures that moved with such grace and speed that he mistook them for Guardians.

They were tall, but not much more than a normal human, all the more leading him to believe that they were Guardians. Even as bolter shells fell upon them like a deadly maelstrom, they were unperturbed. Their white masks and glowing red optics weaved in and out of the fray, returning fire with those strange curved weapons that shot out blue projectiles.

They also clearly had a grip on battlefield tactics. A few of them stayed in cover, delivering constant, only semi-accurate bursts of fire to keep the Orks on their toes as the ones that strayed out in front closed the distance to get better shots, all the while dodging the incoming fire.

 _That's who killed you, if you hadn't figured it out,_ Ghost spoke up, jarring Glatisant back to reality and back into cover when the Orks noticed him staring and tried to take him down. _I'm not sure if they're still hostile with you, since they can clearly see you from here._

 _Well then, why don't I go ask them?_ Glatisant asked, reaching up to blind fire with the machinegun, and stopped immediately upon realizing he was wasting ammunition that was only getting scarcer.

Ghost didn't take long to give his advice. _If it was anyone else saying that, I'd call them crazy. But as it is, I'm sure you can find your way out of it. They're focusing on the unknowns again, now's your best bet._

 _Roger that._

Even with fatigue and a near-fatal wound wearing him down, Glatisant was still the fastest thing on the battlefield. His Light didn't just keep him alive, it strengthened him. Where exhaustion and injuries would have long since become fatalities, the Light turned Glatisant into a tireless combatant that didn't just survive in a firefight, but _thrive_.

The grass in his path was reduced to a series of muddy craters as it was massacred by a combination of his heavy footfalls and a barrage of bolters as Ork gunners tried to take down the newly-exposed target. Between the stream of blue projectiles and him returning fire however, they were discouraged.

The Warlock dropped down, sliding the last few feet as his body was obscured by the ruins of the second building.

Which found himself right next to a pair of the mysterious aliens. One of them was leveling its strange rifle in a ready position that wasn't quite aiming at him but ready to fire at a moment's notice. It also wasn't dressed like the others, with an exposed head that looked like it could have passed off for a human's if not for the white hair tied up in a ponytail and black and white armor eerily reminiscent of his own.

The other was lying against the remains of the structure's base, as if wounded. Even so, it seemed to command respect by its presence alone, and the decorative armor it wore only reinforced the idea.

Glatisant stared at it, her, he realized after comparing the slightly narrower waistline it had to the other aliens. Judging from the scratches its exquisite armor bore, it wasn't just decorative, but functional. Not only that, there was something else about it that was catching his attention.

 _Ghost, this thing, what is it?_

 _Unknown energy readings, consistent with my admittedly limited records as Psyker material. It can use the Warp, that's for sure. That means this is an Eldar. Weird though, it feels like there's something pressing down on it from the Warp but maybe that's just a burden all Pyskers bear. I would say introduce yourself, but the situation is still a little pressing._

The Guardian nodded unconsciously, and the pair of aliens looked at him in clear confusion as he finished the conversation with his Ghost.

"Hello," he began in Low Gothic, hoping they would not only understand but not shoot him for using a Human language. "You guys shot me, but I'm a big person and I'm willing to forgive you if you help me kill these Orks. What do you say?"

 _Is that the best you could come up with?_

 _Ghost, you've never been in a firefight in your life where you're the combatant. Being direct is always the way to go._

 _All the Warlocks in the world, and I got you._

 _You're lucky, I know._

The Eldar that was on its feet and armed looked even more confused that before, but still ready to kill him if he made a wrong move, but the other one's reaction was far more interesting.

She barked out something that must have been an order into the air, for almost immediately the sound of the Eldar's unusual rifle fire disappeared from the firefight, and the other white-armored Eldar soldiers vaulted over their makeshift cover and joined him. They didn't pay him any mind however, choosing to take advantage of having cover again and firing on the Orks.

"So be it," she said, and Glatisant was immediately thrown off by her voice. It carried an undercurrent of regality and grace that he almost mistook her for a being on the level of Atheon or Crota, except not evil.

As far as he could tell, anyways.

The one with white hair talked with her only briefly, and she nodded, the human gesture throwing him off once again. She turned back to him, and only then did he notice her eyes, completely devoid of all color but the skin around them didn't have any scars. Birth defect, maybe?

"We shall work with you, to see if you are the one from the prophecy," she responded, her voice echoing in his head for seconds after the words had left her lips.

Glatisant groaned at that immediately. "Prophecy?"

"You are a Guardian of Light are you not?"

The words made Glatisant freeze and turn, slowly, to face her. "How," he asked, keeping his tone civil, "do you know what that is?"

She didn't answer him, only regarding him with those haunted eyes held in a menacing gaze.

"Fine," he responded, his voice bereft of the jovial tone it once held. "You and you," he said, pointing to two of the white armored soldiers who stiffened upon being singled out, "you're with me. The rest of you, stay here and keep us covered."

Glatisant waited patiently for them to acknowledge his orders, the two Eldar soldiers crouching low, ready to leap out of cover and the rest nodding to the ornate-armored one, who nodded to him.

"Now!" he yelled, and the trio sprung into action, lead by the Guardian of the Traveler. Shuriken rifle fire flew all around them, slaying any Orks who dared to cross no man's land as the Rangers at his side opened fire, but Glatisant had no such time for that.

With a flick of his wrist, Reborn in Light appeared in his hands, the hilt thrumming with energy that seemed to make his arm ache just slightly less, if only as long as he held it. He almost thought the Orks were frightened by it for a second, several choosing to stop and gaze at him for a moment, but then they started firing on him, and him alone.

Fine by him, it just meant his new allies would have better opportunities to shoot them.

Glatisant channeled all the light he could into the air around him, and especially around his boots before he leapt up—almost six meters into the air.

From up here, it was easy to see the Ork emplacements, and the land in general. The two buildings he was taking cover in not a few minutes ago were located on a small plateau, one of many that stretched from the ground to several hundred feet into the air. The Orks were crossing a natural rock bridge that had formed, connecting their larger plateau to his own, and were setting up cover and digging themselves in as they advanced.

But not nearly fast enough, as the Eldar reopened fire and cut down the Orks who had exposed themselves to fire on the Guardian, allowing him to land with his shields mostly intact, at the point where the rocky bridge between his plateau began and theirs ended.

At knife-fighting range with a horde of Orks.

Deciding that now was the best time for trying out new things, Glatisant channeled the solar energy of Scorch—straight into his blade.

In response, the pure white blade took on a shade of orange like molten lava and made the air around it blur from heat. He gave it an experimental swing, and with a satisfied smirk saw a Nob fall to the ground in pain after a diagonal slash to its chest left it charred and glowing from the effort.

 _I realize you're doing well, better than I had expected, even,_ he picked up Ghost's voice, the mental communications taking priority over the sound of battle. _But quite frankly, they're just going to keep coming. And I can hear more of them approaching._

 _I've got a plan._

 _I hope it works,_ Ghost replied sincerely, the message obscuring the sound of a Nob screaming in pain as its internal organs and blood reached a boiling temperature. Glatisant punched another one of the Boyz, the comparatively weaker Ork stumbling backwards, allowing Shurikens to rip into it.

But despite his seemingly chaotic fighting style, there was a pattern to it, an objective. Glatisant continued to press across the stone bridge, using his sword to deflect bullets—something even he found greatly difficult, and stabbing at the Orks at the while.

"Right there!" he yelled, marking the location he was talking about by throwing a glowing grenade that burned all the Orks near it and making them scream from the fire. "Clear them out in that area!"

The Eldar showed that they were not only covering him, but listening after all. Streams of gunfire caused even the Orks to succumb to their wounds.

He could care less if they died or not however, all that mattered was whether or not they were firing on him, and they weren't.

 _I think I know what you're doing,_ Ghost said as Glatisant found the bit of melted stone where his grenade landed. _And I think it might work and you should absolutely do it._

 _That's a first, coming from you._

 _And you should do it now because they're coming, more of them!_ Ghost injected urgency into its voice, and Glatisant didn't need to be told twice.

He sent a fresh wave of Light into his sword, the orange blade turning blazing hot and becoming blinding to look at. With a roar and both hands on the hilt, the Guardian drove it straight down—into the ground.

The nature-formed bridge, so weakened from erosion, battles, and now this new assault, failed to repel the onslaught of heat and impact.

Glatisant groaned with effort, his arm protesting once again and feeling like it might fall off as fresh pain that seemed to come from all around him made its presence known. He didn't let up for a moment however, keeping the magical blade forced into the ground to the hilt, steam curling off the small hole it had cut into the melted stone.

And with a sudden shuddering feeling and the realization that the rest of the world was suddenly a few feet taller than he remembered, Glatisant realized his plan had worked. The Orks began to wobble uncertainly as they lost their footing, and the ground shook, destabilized and damaged beyond measure.

 _Time to leave: now._

 _Ghost, not necessary!_ Glatisant chided as he snatched the blade up and returned it to his inventory. He jumped once, entering the air then coming down on the natural bridge, making it shudder once more. Then he jumped again, pushing off one last time with all the strength that he had as he reached up for a rock that jutted out from the cliff face—only for the black and white armored Eldar to grab him, leaning heavily over the edge.

With that, the last of the rocky formation fell into the chasm below, taking multiple Orks with it.

 _You did it,_ Ghost said, sounding almost disbelieving. _I wasn't sure if you could do it but-_

"Then it's true, you really are a Guardian," the blind Eldar said, surprising everyone as she walked towards them, Glatisant being pulled up by the rest. He got to his feet unsteadily, adrenaline still coursing through his system before he stared down at her.

"Damn right I am, and you owe me some answers."

* * *

 _Glatisant - Abilities_

 _New Abilities Available!_

 _Immaterial Presence: For a brief time, Psyker-based attacks against you will reflect back to its caster and deal damage to them. Attacks too strong will end this bonus and deal reduced damage to you. 70 Second cooldown. 10 Second cooldown with Radiance active._

 _Light Weaver: Conjure a field of Light that can be used as either a shield or an offensive weapon. Deals bonus damage to creatures of Darkness or Chaos._

* * *

 **A/N: And we're done. Till next time! Oh, and don't forget to tell me which of those abilities you want me to use since I'll only use one, I couldn't decide.**

 **Eldar language translator:**

 **Dyann yi Iyri - Guardian of Light**

 **ww1990ww: Pretty sure the Chaos Gods have a lot of power and control, but only over the Milky Way. So it's safe to put them at a galactic threat, but a lot of things could totally still kill them provided they were strong enough.**

 **thefluffyone93: LOLNO. If it was the C'tan Outsider the Hive would get annihilated in an instant. The only way they could stand a chance of just fighting it off is if they had all their gods on their side in a single battle against a weakened Outsider or something. As for who it is, think of who was trying to intrude into their mind a few chapters ago.**

 **MeleeSmasher: The only way I can justify cliffhangers on these chapters is because I post the next chapter before the week is out instead of a month later.**

 **Warpwind: Anything Chaos-related is able to reincarnate since always. Might take them some time but hey, they do it. Actually I take that back, I don't think little things like the cultists or very minor things like those can come back, but I definitely recall chaos space marines, even regular ones, being able to come back from the warp after a time.**

 **The True Skull: That's pretty much what I thought. I never much cared for Kayleth.**

 **Konerok Hadorak: Wow! I love to get reviews like this!**

 **So to start, thanks for the compliments and yeah, 40K is a little hard to get into, god knows I don't know much about it.**

 **That's a hell of a theory you have regarding the Vex, which actually sounds incredibly plausible. Props for taking the time to carefully study the hidden meaning behind things like Atheon's name btw.**

 **The Vex may or may not make an appearance in this story *wink* and that's an interesting idea for a fanfic, I'll check it out when you make it. The Fallen are likely trying to take the Traveler back, I agree on that. They aren't evil enough to want to destroy it for the sake of destruction, I assumed they wanted to loot it or reclaim it, and your theory makes the most sense.**


	9. This Darkness, Crushing

**A/N: Sorry that it's taking me a while to update this. I basically only find myself able to write when I feel like it or if I'm well past my updating schedule. Otherwise I just end up writing nothing worth reading. Also I write these at like, 4-5 in the morning.**

 **If you were wondering, the chapters pretty much switch between a 3rd person narrative of events from the point of view of a certain character, occasionally shifting and whatnot. Hope that makes sense.**

* * *

 _Typhon Primaris, Present Day_

It seemed like there was some kind of disagreement at his proclamation, with the four alien soldiers giving each other looks while their leaders continued to stare at him, as though wondering how much information they could keep from him. Which meant he might have to be persuasive.

"But before we do that," Glatisant said, "I would really appreciate if we could move this conversation in _that_ direction since I only made it so the Orks can't walk to us. They can still shoot us."

A piece of rock that jutted out from the cliff was obliterated not a moment later as a series of muzzle flashes from the Orks opposite them appeared. They couldn't have been that far away, barely a hundred meters or so. Still, even with their misshapen weapons that appeared as though they couldn't hit the broad side of an Ogre at point blank range, the Guardian didn't intend on sticking around, and it seemed the Eldar didn't either.

Their leader dipped her head for only a moment, and it took him a second to realize it was a nod. "Very well. Come with us, and we shall answer what we can."

As the group entered a brisk jogging pace, which was apparently all they needed to fully get out of the Orks' weapon range, Glatisant called Ghost up once more.

 _I'm going to need you to make note of everything they say, and hurry up with the Sparrow._

 _On it._

 _Anything else the Guardsmen told you about the Eldar we can use to our advantage?_

 _Two things. They think of themselves as higher than anyone else, and that everything they do is for a purpose. And that purpose is to better themselves, and themselves alone. So obviously don't trust them and don't rely on them._

Satisfied, Glatisant ended that conversation and turned his attention back to his newfound companions. From what little information he had to go on, they only acted if it put them at an advantage, and didn't particularly care about anyone else.

As a result, he found himself slightly worrying about why _he_ was in one of their supposed prophecies.

"This is good enough," he spoke up as they entered a clearing. The Eldar squad came to a collective halt as the guards began to spread out slightly, perhaps searching for targets. Meanwhile, the other two turned to face him, and the Guardian cleared his throat in response.

"Before we go any further, what are your names?"

"Does that matter?" the white haired one asked dubiously.

Glatisant ignored him. "I'll start. I am Warlock Guardian Glatisant. And you are?" he directed with an expectant look, the effect of which was lost from wearing a helmet.

"Very well, Guardian," the taller one said. "I am Farseer Elariel, in service of Craftworld Ulthwé. And this is Ronahn, formerly a Pathfinder for Craftworld Ulthwé."

 _Formerly, huh?_ He asked himself, but shook it off, that wasn't why he had stopped to talk to them. "And how did you know who I was?"

"I and other Seers came together in an effort to discern the future of this sector, that we may escape the coming storm," Elariel answered with what sounded like pride. "We discovered many possible futures, and only a few that met our n-"

"Wait. Stop," Glatisant motioned, and the blank metal faceplate stared at him in what he could only assume was annoyance. "You can predict the future?"

"To a degree that is neither completely accurate or too far into the future," Ronahn supplied, earning a glance from Elariel's blank helmet before it settled back to the Warlock. "That is correct."

Glatisant sighed. The cultists and their version of the Darkness, he could understand. Even the Vex, _whatever_ strange category they fell under he could comprehend. This was just ridiculous though. "And how do you do that?"

Another stare. "I cannot explain that in a manner that is easy to comprehend or wouldn't take up too much time. Suffice to say, Farseers like myself are able to predict future events with limited sight."

It was an excuse, and he felt like they both knew it. Not that she was aware, but if he could comprehend the theory behind using the force of Light to resurrect himself while clinically dead, he could probably get a grasp on the mechanics of predicting the future.

"Fine. Continue, then," he motioned. _Just another Traveler-damned thing to study later,_ he thought.

"...We predicted many possible outcomes to save the Eldar in this sector, however due to our lack of influence, we are only able to act on a few of these," Elariel muttered. "I am leading a team that is attempting to change the future, and to do so requires your help."

 _Well if that wasn't vague,_ Ghost chipped in, and Glatisant silently agreed.

"And what makes you think I will help you?" he challenged.

It was so subtle that he almost didn't notice, but for just a moment, Elariel seemed to tense up as though not expecting the question before returning to her normal stance. Ronahn observed them, looking more irritated than anything else.

"You will," she answered in that lofty voice, so full of confidence. "What other option do you have? There is no other way off this world but with us, and this is not where you will want to be in the near future."

Glatisant's eyes narrowed. The fact that her statement was pretty much true but felt like it was pushing him to help them a little _too_ much was more than enough reason for distrust. "And why would I not want to be here?"

"Do you know what an Exterminatus is?"

"No," he answered flatly.

"It is when the Imperium razes a world from orbit, destroying all life on the planet through planetary bombardment. Perhaps you don't care about this world," she murmured, and he instantly thought of the Orks that he wouldn't miss at all. "But you are stranded here, and we are running out of time. You can stop this, or you can die here, and not come back."

"Did your prophecies tell you that?" Glatisant asked even as a knot began to form in his stomach. His mind was in turmoil, torn between the distrust of a race that apparently used others as tools on a regular basis, and the desire to not be killed so far from the Traveler.

Assuming she wasn't lying.

Elariel gave another nod. _"The dead will bear death, the damned shall be damned, every soul of a Craftworld lost, slain without a word."_

"...Where do I fit into that?"

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"You called me a 'Guardian of the Light'," he elaborated. "Which is true, and you definitely know that by now. So since you divine the future and I'm mentioned in _a_ prophecy, why would you mention one that _doesn't_ include me?"

There was only the sound of the leaves rustling in the gentle wind and the sound of some far-off insects of some kind as the Eldar seemed to contemplate the question.

"You are not ready to hear it yet," she responded. "When the time is right, you will."

 _Ghost,_ he called out.

 _Yes?_

 _Is it just me or does it sound as though, assuming the idea of prophecies is true, that maybe the prophecy with me in it features me doing something I don't want to do? And that's why she's not telling me this?_

 _I came to that conclusion too, but what choice do we have? Considering how I doubt I can reconstruct your ship, they were likely not lying about being stranded here. Going with them is your only option, unless you want to test your luck with the Orks and possible orbital bombardment._

It took only a few seconds for them to talk, and when they were finished it seemed that the Farseer was none the wiser.

"Alright," he said at last. "I'll help you in exchange for getting off this world. After that, we're done. Deal?"

"I accept your terms," she answered, then looked at his outstretched hand. "What are you doing?"

Glatisant was just as puzzled as her for a few seconds, before realizing what she meant. "In human culture, we typically shake the hands of the people we are making a deal with."

The Rangers, who Glatisant had completely forgotten were there, turned to face them, one saying something to Elariel in their language the second he mentioned 'human', clearly angered. Judging by the sudden displeased reaction, combined with what information he'd gotten from Ghost, it didn't take much to put two and two together. He probably wasn't happy about working with a human.

A very terse reply from Elariel to the uppity soldier later, she turned to face him. "My... _apologies_ for that, Guardian," she said, and Glatisant didn't find it hard to imagine her saying that through gritted teeth. Like it wasn't a prospect she relished either but recognized the necessity in it. "Most of us are unused to working with a human."

"I am so much more than human" he answered her in his own vaguely displeased voice. "Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise. So since we apparently hate each other because reasons, do we still have a deal?"

Without hesitation, her gloved hands met his armored gauntlet, and they shook, much to the disapproval of every Eldar present.

A few seconds passed, during which Glatisant made note of the subtle shift in the rest of the Eldar soldiers' stance. In a way that was hard to describe, they simply appeared more hostile, unforgiving of the fact that he was human. They were tolerating his presence for now, trusting in their leader's wisdom. Who knew if that would hold up.

Ronahn didn't look like he particularly cared one way or another, still wearing a semi-scowl on his face, like he had since he had since Glatisant had first met him.

"Do you have a plan for getting us off-world?" he asked. Another conversation that didn't include him spoken in a language he didn't understand later, Elariel nodded.

"Lead the way," he offered, and they obliged.

To regular humans, walking through a thick woods at night was a difficult affair. As a result, traversing a jungle full of hostiles in almost total darkness would have been completely impossible. To the well-suited bodies of the Eldar however, they had little trouble navigating the terrain, and the Light that empowered Glatisant didn't face any major troubles either.

Hours passed agonizingly slowly as they fell into a routine: try to walk in a mostly straight line to some destination he had not been informed of. If that is not possible, navigate around whatever obstacle is in front of them, and fight through any Orks that appear in front of them.

It was a routine he was pretty familiar with, the Guardian reflected as he stabbed an Ork and fired his heavy machinegun into its throat once. It reminded him of Venus, almost. Marching across the overgrown remnants of civilization, stopping only to fight when the horde of Vex pursuers became too much to ignore.

Except right now he would have almost preferred them to the Orks. Glatisant scowled as the Ork refused to die, instead grabbing his heavy weapon and throwing him to the side with a strength surpassing his own. He quickly scampered to his feet, and got in front of the Ork before it reached its bolter. Two more diagonal slashes to the chest later, it finally collapsed, and he put a bullet into its head to be certain. Even their basic foot soldiers were as durable as a Minotaur, it felt like.

He reached for another magazine only to come up short, and Ghost immediately used one of his synthesis packs to create more.

 _We have exactly one more left for heavy ammunition, Guardian. May be best not to use it for now since I'm still having trouble making our own from scrap materials. It's... a complicated affair._

 _Understood._ Against All Odds went away, and he held his auto rifle and sword once again.

 _Not that it looks either of you need it at the moment,_ and Glatisant briefly stopped strangling another Ork to see what Ghost was talking about.

On the shore of a swamp was the Farseer, currently in a duel with a pair of Nobs. How she managed that, Glatisant was clueless. He had enough trouble killing them one at a time, but she was a master at melee combat. Wielding a long bladed staff he didn't know she had, and moving with such grace and fluidity that she looked more like a dancer than a warrior.

At the same time, the Nobs were pressing down upon her with all they had. One swung another of those oversized bladed axes he had seen before, only for it to miss the Farsser as she sidestepped it, avoiding the gnashing mechanical teeth by millimeters. The other brought what looked like a flamethrower that had been poorly welded to one of the bolter-type weapons they were so fond of, but Elariel was faster than it.

Her hand came down hard on top of the gun's iron sights, forcing it to aim at the ground as she drove her staff into its neck with the other hand. The chainaxe-wielding Ork tried to take advance and swung sideways at her, like a lumberjack trying to chop down a tree, only to miss completely when Elariel twisted the staff, forcing the wounded Nob directly in the path of the axe and allowing to be cleaved in half.

The Nob didn't let that incident discourage it in the slightest, only taking it as further incentive to pursue her. Even as a comparatively smaller Ork suddenly arrived on the scene, wielding a crude war axe. She killed it immediately with a swipe of the bladed staff, so quickly that it made the air blur and the cut so clean it could have been mistaken for being severed by a laser.

Then the muddy water next to her shifted and a second Ork grasped her by the legs, pulling her to the ground. "S'PRISE YA GIT! I'Z THE SWAMP DA HOLE TIME!" it bellowed triumphantly.

It died instantly when she simply forced the blades of her staff into its eye sockets, but the damage was done—she was no longer on her feet.

Roaring in rage, the surviving Ork started after her, stumbling when she reached out and lightning not unlike what he saw the cultists using began to fry it—only to stop almost as soon as it started, causing Elariel to drop her hands to the ground, her staff clattering uselessly next to her.

Glatisant's mind went into overdrive at the sight, assessing the situation. Ronahn didn't see what was going on, he was shooting at a group of Orks operating heavy machineguns far to their left. The other Eldar soldiers weren't close enough to assist. He needed her to get out of here.

* * *

Taking the Path of the Seer had prepared Elariel for a great many things. And while most of them revolved around using her psyker abilities to get herself out of trouble, there were quite a fair few combat skills she was very familiar with that made her far from helpless.

However, all of this was taught to her under the assumption that she would be facing threats that could be fought. None of her training or centuries of experienced trained her for what had happened a few hours ago.

It felt like the lightning bolts that had almost fired the Ork had done the same to her, and at that moment she felt as weak as a child, about ready to keel over from exhaustion. It was a stupid mistake, she realized. To have gone into a battle without support without her powers of precognition backing her up.

Or what Crota had done to her.

Still, there were more important things to worry about than her regret. The Nob was bearing down on her, chainaxe roaring as its teeth sliced the air.

Even in this state, Elariel pushed against the ground with all of her might, forcing her into a roll and allowing the deadly melee weapon to sink to its head in the mud. As the Nob pulled it free, she drew a dagger stowed within her armor. Any other day and it would have been an easy battle, but not today. Being blind and weakened greatly reduced her odds, but the situation was still winnable, that much she could tell. The Farseer charged forward, ready to slip around the Ork's blind side at the last moment when it was most likely to bring its axe to bear-

only for it to fall flat on its face, and only then was she aware of the fist-sized hole in its chest and the approaching footsteps of the monkeigh- _Guardian._

"You alright? What was that?" he demanded of her as they moved sluggishly through the swamp, managing to avoid the incoming bolters until they came to a stop underneath a tree.

 _The monkeigh and their arrogance_ she thought to herself briefly before chiding herself. Not long ago, she was trying all she could to get it to join them, and human or not, there was no doubt they needed his help.

"I am well," she half-lied, steadying herself as the feeling of nausea and tiredness from using her powers began to fade. "Not able to use my powers for a while. I will be fine."

The Guardian didn't seem to be paying any attention to her, with his back against the tree's thick trunk and looking past it for enemies. She felt her irritation mount ever so slightly at being so casually ignored, only for him to interrupt her thoughts. "And why is that?"

"I was attacked while attempting to gather information," she answered in her usual truthful but vague response.

Blindness or not, she could tell the Guardian was rolling his eyes.

"Attacked by who?"

"I doubt you would recognize the name," she scoffed, all the while pondering if she should actually tell him. Wooden splinters exploded against her, and she decided to humor him if only to end the conversation. "A being known as Crota stole my sight and hinders my powers."

"Oh, well- wait what the shit?!"

The startled and angry response was not at all what she had been expecting.

"You mean to tell me-" he started before freezing up and turning his gaze towards her. He didn't move for a few seconds.

"What," he asked slowly, "did it do?"

This was taking her in the opposite direction she wanted to go, but the Guardian's dangerous tone was clearly sending a very clear message: this was not something to lie about.

"I attempted to delve into the memories of a Wizard," Elariel answered truthfully as she felt rather than saw the Warlock tense with what little psyker-improved senses she had left. _Recognition._ He knew what a Wizard was. "In doing so I saw a vision of Wizards singing a song to summon Crota. It stabbed me through the eyes, and rendered me blind to the world, and the Warp."

There was a lengthy pause, interrupted only by the sound of bolter shells exploding underneath the murky swamp water near them. Finally the Guardian spoke up, and she could practically feel the trepidation in his normally calm tone.

"Do you know _what_ , exactly, Crota is?"

Elariel searched the area around her with her mind. It was her only way of sensing anything around her that wasn't within a few meters, and it was one skill, however small, that Crota hadn't managed to take from her. Satisfied that they weren't going to come under immediate attack, she answered.

"No. Only what it is called and that it is the leader of the Hive," she said, moments of her excursion flooding back to the surface of her thoughts. An army of chittering and screeching bone. The sound of that damnable creature's song and its mind-flaying powers-

Her head began to hurt, and the Farseer immediately cleared the thoughts away like she had countless times before. Those were so much more than memories, and were dangerous to delve in.

The sound of gunshots from what was most assuredly not a Shuriken rifle sounded off, coupled with a few cries of pain from Orks. After a few seconds, it became clear he wasn't going to respond, and she sighed in frustration. This entire excursion had all but ended before it began. First Crota stole her power, then the Orks decided now would be an excellent time to attack, and now half her team doubted her leadership capabilities.

Still, not all was lost. At least they had recruited the Guardian, she reminded herself. If the skeins of fate were to be believed, then there was still a chance, however slim. It just required them to get off the planet. Events needed to be set in motion, and fast.

The sound of battle stilled, to the point where it was clear there were no more Ork gunners immediately firing on them. Venturing out of cover cautiously, something she was completely unused to, Elariel joined the rest of her party in venturing forward. Normally, she would have been able to simply vault over any obstacles in the way and gut her adversaries at a moment's notice. Now, she felt herself almost trip over a vine.

It was starting to anger her, and she resolved to get her sight back as quickly as possible. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, one so obvious she wondered how she hadn't thought of it before. If the Guardian knew what Crota was, could he knew how to lift the Darkness that obscured her vision?

Just as she was about to ask the question, she heard him speak. "Where are we going?"

"A Webway," Ronahn answered him. "One that's able to transport us to a different planet in the system."

"And how far away is it?"

"We are almost upon it."

"Guardian," she called, and felt his eyes on her. "How do you know of Crota?"

"I killed him," he answered. "A long time ago."

She nodded. From the sound of his reaction to the news earlier, it sounded like he had killed or indefinitely imprisoned the demigod long ago. "And how did you do that?" she asked.

"I doubt it would work again, if that's what you're hoping for," he answered bitterly. One of the Rangers fired a few shots, and a heavy green body thudded against the ground, shaking it. "Wasn't easy either. Got cursed by just being near it."

 _That_ piqued her interest. "How did you rid yourself of it?"

"We needed a Chalice of Light to survive. I don't know if any even exist anymore."

Just like that, her hopes were deflated. "There is no other way?"

"Well..." he pondered, and she felt herself hanging on his every word. "I suppose if you had enough Light or a way of gathering some, you might be able to remove... whatever it is that you're dealing with."

"Eyes up," Ronahn said, interrupting them. "Webway ahead."

* * *

 _You ever heard of anything like that?_

 _No,_ Ghost answered. _It must be that presence from the Warp that I felt suppressing her, that's my guess. But no, since I wasn't aware of the Warp since we arrived here I have not heard of anything like that._

 _I'm more worried about Crota apparently having a presence in the Warp. If he finds a way of travelling through it, we're fucked._

 _The Farseer said the Wizards were chanting something,_ Ghost muttered. _Ir Yût, the Deathsinger._

 _They died when we killed them though, right? Or at least, should have stayed dead for millennia?_

 _Our studies into the Darkness are theoretical at best,_ Ghost reminded him. _And this is only my personal theory, but the Crota you fought was just a vessel being commanded by a fragment of his soul. We didn't destroy all of it._

 _So where have they been all this time? If enough time has passed that humanity doesn't even remember the Guardians or the Traveler, then what've the remnants of it been doing?_

 _That's what worries me._

They lapsed into silence after that, Glatisant choosing to pay more attention to the area in front of him.

At least he tried to. In spite of the cobbled together explanation for Crota's possible return, he still never forgot the way that damned _thing_ had all but drained the Light from their bodies by just being in the same general area. The thousand Guardians its blade had felled, and how hollow and far away his victory had been.

The Guardian tried to stop thinking about it harder. Crota was a threat, but he would have to wait until after they left this planet. They entered an area that had been civilized at one point, only to be reclaimed by the jungle for who knew how long.

The Imperium had clearly been here, if the series of barbed wire and arc lights were any indication. An ugly but clearly durable ramparted building next to a curved blue and gold spire with red lights sat in the middle of the pavilion-like area.

 _That must be the Webway they're referring to,_ Ghost said.

Elariel stepped forward, touching the base of the structure and making the red lights on its 'spine' come alive. At the same time, a perfectly shaped oval of translucent aqua light formed, fitting around the curved structure.

"It's damaged," she said in Low Gothic, withdrawing her hand from the Webway, frowning behind her faceplate. "We can't go through it, but we can requisition additional forces."

"Oi! Something jus' went right sparkly over der!" came the sound of, to the surprise of no one, more Orks.

"What can we summo-" Glatisant asked before a small group of Eldar and a floating gun teleported directly in front of him. "Whoa!"

Ronahn nodded. "Shuriken cannons. Good. Set them up quickly, we haven't got a moment to lose."

The new infantry team, which was clad in the same pattern of armor as the Rangers but with slightly more armor plates only just managed to finish setting up the mobile cannon they brought with them before the entire treeline to their east inexplicably exploded.

"Waaaag-" the horde of Orks started, only to be drowned out by the collective sound of a dozen rifles firing at the same time. A maelstrom of shurikens flew out from the heavy turret, raining death upon the green creatures. Two died immediately, turned to ribbons from the deadly assault. Another was clipped at the waist, blowing its legs off as the devastation continued.

 _Wow._

 _More Orks, from the west!_

Glatisant stopped firing momentarily and jumped to the other side of barricades. Another wave of Orks, these ones brandishing flamethrowers and more of their ludicrously sized melee weapons.

The ones with the flamers were a priority target, and Glatisant wasted no time in focusing all his Light into his arm. Scorch was sent outwards not as a single blob of fire that would crash against opponents at close range, but instead came out as a cone of superheated air that made the atmosphere ripple and blur from heat. The Orks recoiled for just a second as his wounds stung from the effort, but a second was all he needed.

All he did was take out his auto rifle and spray in a horizontal line from right to left, and the exposed Orks were helpless to the results.

The first few bullets shot wide, hitting nothing but air and dirt.

And a few hit the volatile-looking fuel canisters that were strapped to the flamer-wielding Orks. Thus began the greatest display of pyrotechnics Typhon Primaris had ever seen since the original Tyranid infestation.

A wave of heat so many magnitudes more than any living creature was ever meant to survive exploded outwards in a whirlwind of fire, instantly torching the Orks caught in the blast. It forced Glatisant to dive for cover again as the metal tank barricades he was hiding behind bubbled and audibly popped from the heat, but he was unharmed. The same could not be said for the Orks however. Western approach was clear.

Shields recharging, the Warlock threw a cautious glance at the rest of the battlefield, and was satisfied with the results. One of the new Eldar soldiers finished putting a burst of rifle fire into a twitching Ork, apparently the last one. It was time to move.

"I hope this wasn't the Webway we were hoping to leave through," he said dryly, motioning to the still-active but functionally useless portal.

"It was one. There are others close by," the Farseer stated. "Move quickly, we shouldn't waste any time in this jungle any more than we have to."

"Let's move," Ronahn agreed, and together they did.

The next few minutes saw them in a routine that had become second nature to the motley team of Eldar plus a Guardian. A short gunfight between a few small bands of roving Orks later, they encountered _another_ Webway, only to find that much like its sister building, it was incapable of long-distance teleportation.

Everyone had a few muttered curses to chip in at that discovery, but at least they had even more Rangers with them, Glatisant noted. "Time to what, find another Webway?" he asked, a few of the Rangers and Ronahn nodding in confirmation.

"Of course," he sighed, but readied his heavy weapon regardless. Advancing into the next abandoned Imperial camp they were greeted by more abandoned buildings, more barbed wire, and an Ork big enough to wrestle with an Ogre.

Alright, he hadn't been expecting that, actually.

"That's right decent of ya, shiny," he barked at them. "Deliverin' yerself and da Eldar right to me grotstep!"

Still unable to get used to their completely out of place accent, Glatisant took his time to respond. "Who the hell are you?" he asked bluntly.

The massive Ork threw its head back to the sky and gave a hearty laugh while the Guardian pondered if shooting him right now in the throat with No Land Beyond would be enough to kill him. Knowing these things and their stupidly durable form however, it probably wouldn't.

"HAHAHA! That's rich. You slaughter all me boyz without even listenin' to dem, and then ya demand me name? I'z Kaptin Bluddflagg, and I'z gonna be the last thing you'll ever see!"

Had he not been wearing a helmet, Glatisant would have scratched his head in confusion. "Your 'boyz' didn't exactly give me a choice. They kept telling me they wanted to talk to me while shooting at me."

"Izzat not how you deliver a message?" Bluddflagg asked him, equally bewildered. Glatisant just turned around to face the rest of his allies.

"Should we kill him?" he asked.

Elariel gave her response, "It is foolish to allow a Warboss to live unharmed, he must be stopped as quickly as possible."

Ronahn nodded, and together they turned to face the still-confused Ork, who was well within hearing range of their conversation. "Well if that's da way you want to play..." he growled, gripping the chainaxe and impossibly crude rifle, "WAAAGH!"

Hundreds upon hundreds of Shurikens and heavy weapons rounds flew into the air, and very few missed. However it didn't seem to do any noticeable damage, drawing buckets of blood from gushing wounds that Bluddflagg didn't care about in the slightest. He charged forward and smashed his axe into the ground, instantly flattening a Ranger who hadn't managed to dive out of the way in time.

Glatisant was already running in a circle around it, doing all he could to kill the monstrous creature. A grenade stuck to its back, machinegun rounds blasted into its armor-like hide, and the Eldar did much the same. Still, Bluddflagg had apparently earned the rank of Kaptin through more than just being the biggest and strongest Ork around. He counterattacked with suppressive fire from the long automatic rifle in one hand, forcing them to momentarily cease fire as he singled out exposed Eldar with his chainaxe.

Glatisant gritted his teeth as a sudden swipe came dangerously close to him, and instead bisected a pair of Rangers next to him. Their upper halves went sailing through the air, spraying crimson against the concrete as the Guardian came to the conclusion that he was too close for Gjallarhorn, and bullets were pretty much ineffective.

Bluddflagg almost killed him immediately by swinging his rifle like a club, missing the top of his head by inches as Glatisant ducked low into a roll, scampering behind the Ork. Instinctively, Bluddflagg turned around to face him, which exposed him to two things that for all his durability, he was completely unprepared for.

A hailstorm of Shurikens shredded the Ork's skin, the mounted gun being manned by the sole surviving Eldar from the initial assault. At the same time, the Warlock drew his blade, and drove it as far as he could into the joint where Bluddflagg's leg ended and his foot began.

It howled in pain, which was the entire purpose of the attack. Glatisant reached for his sniper rifle to deliver a killing blow as he stepped back—and was sent flying as more than a ton of moving steel collided with his chest.

It felt like being back in the jungle when he first arrived, with wounds that were practically dripping with Darkness and Chaos and death. He used his good arm to get to his feet, swaying uncertainly as the ground seemed to spin and twirl underneath him. The feeling passed, but not before Bluddflagg got a lot closer, raising its chainaxe for another blow. He timed it perfectly, only failing to kill the Guardian when he rolled out of the way, allowing the concrete to take the blow instead.

Coming to find himself on his back staring up at the sky, Glatisant turned to the left to see the massive form of the Warboss's boots, and the blade sticking out of them. Snatching it up, he ran towards where he had been previously, under covering fire of the rest of the Eldar.

 _Now might actually be time to use heavier weapons._

 _How is he even alive at this point._

While blood flowed freely from its wounds, Bluddflagg's reckless charge showed no signs of slowing down despite being shot literally thousands of times by now, which was starting to irritate and worry Glatisant. Seeing no other option, he gave a cursory check of his HUD, and found what he was looking for.

The Light enveloped him, and once more Glatisant relished its effects while they lasted. Nothing ached anymore. He was as light as a feather, and as strong as a Titan. It was going to work perfectly.

Bounding across the overgrown base like a man possessed, he brought his blade to meet the Warboss's own. Even with Radiance, he wasn't nearly as strong as the nearly two-story tall monstrosity, but he had more momentum. Bluddflagg was knocked a few steps backwards, allowing Glatisant to channel Scorch into his blade once again, and leap into action.

There wasn't much time left on Radiance, but he made the most of it. Bluddflagg was only a few feet in front of him, facing sideways after being spun from their collision. Glatisant charged forward, jumping at the last second and bringing the molten blade to cut a long gash through its ribs like a laser sword through butter.

He landed with enough force to shatter some of the concrete, and was able to turn around just as the golden wisps of Light faded from his body and the weight of the world came back to him.

The Ork was _still_ standing, clutching at its chest in actual pain at being hurt, but alive nonetheless. Glatisant shrugged off his disbelief in a second, reaching for his sniper rifle in the hopes he could deliver a killing blow.

Recovering quickly, Bluddflagg roared in anger and started another one of his charges, before stopping completely. The creature's eyes rolled back in its head, and it collapsed forwards, revealing the Farseer's staff embedded in the back of its lifeless body.

* * *

 **A/N: REAL QUICK: When I wrote that sentence about Radiance making the Guardian feel like he was 'strong as a Titan', I meant that as in as strong as a Titan Guardian. Not a goddam giant mech from Warhammer.**

 **If you're wondering why I wrote the Farseer as not being some completely overconfident 'hurr hurr I'm an Eldar and know everything' character, it's because of the whole Crota thing a little while ago.**

 **Oh and if you're wondering what weapon she is wielding, just think of the staff with bladed edges that Taldeer uses in the first Dawn of War game. Something like that.**

 **And now let us end this chapter with some reviews.**

 **Meleesmasher: Well, basically they're disappointed but still willing to work with him.**

 **TheTrueSkull: I went back and looked, but I didn't reference at any point in this story, a segment where the Fallen were trying to loot the Traveler. Although if I did write that and just forgot to remove it, let me know, thanks.**

 **Konerok Hadorak: Yeah I agree, I think like, twice I just wrote those in because I couldn't think of anything else to write and if I didn't it would be one long block of unbroken text that would more or less be "And then he killed another ork. And again." That part of the chapter, anyways. But maybe I just need to improve my writing style.**

 **As for why they talk so much, that's just the personality I gave them. Other Guardians and their Ghosts are different and much more what you were expecting. Plus, the way I wrote those are supposed to be like 'and then they exchanged maybe three sentences between each other about three times over the course of a four hour long battle'. That's my justification for it.**

 **Besides, it's not like they go to great lengths to discuss anything that's not extremely pertinent to what they're doing. And the alternative is to take the Destiny route, in which case Dinklebot unlocks a door for five years while revealing about 6 minutes worth of story.**

 **I actually had plans for a lot of the things you mentioned, although some, not all would actually appear in the story. The Hive are pretty much the only force that are regaining a foothold in the galaxy again at this time, but I do not intend for it to be them alone. All I can say is... stay tuned. This chapter doesn't have a lot going on, I must admit. Next one will have some interesting stuff to see.**


	10. But Even If We Break

**I've been putting this off for a long time, because of reasons. I went to a LAN, and it was my birthday a few days ago. Oh, and special thanks to everyone who reviews this story. I seriously do appreciate it!**

 **While I normally answer reviews at the bottom of the chapter, I have to answer this one first.**

 **The True Skull: No, you're not out of line. I just remembered that when I was writing this, it was basically the Farseer, Ronahn, and a bunch of unnamed scouts moving together and** _ **then**_ **they find the Webway and summon actual Dire Avengers. The worst part is, I actually know who they are, problem is I was just being an idiot when I wrote chapter 9. I'll fix it sometime soon, but yeah, you're right. My bad, I made a mistake.**

 **Anyways, chapter 10.**

* * *

 _Location: CLASSIFIED_

 _Time: CLASSIFIED_

In hindsight, this was exactly where he thought he would end up.

Corporal Gault's eyes scanned the room for what felt like the billionth time, taking in the fresh details of a gunmetal gray door, a table with three chairs, and completely bare concrete walls. Apart from a few scratches on the walls and furniture, there wasn't a thing to keep his mind occupied with.

"What do you think'll happen to us?"

Well, except the other private, Mathias Vanic.

"That is a great question," Adrian mumbled inattentively. "My money's on the Inquisition. They'll ask about what you found in that bunker of theirs. When that's done... maybe they'll kill us quickly," he added hopefully.

There was time before his companion responded, and Gault took advantage of the silence to lean back in his seat, propping up his dusty combat boots onto the scratched but otherwise spotless table. He scowled at that. Not a few _hours_ after leaving that literal hellhole of a planet, and officials from the Imperium with rankings he had only read about had seized all the survivors from the transport. What a joke, to die here instead.

"Best case scenario, huh?" Mathias asked him jokingly after a while, but it was easy to see his nervousness from the sheen of sweat on his brow that could not have come from the surprisingly chilled room.

"Actually, the best case scenario is a tech priest walks through the door and asks us about the technology that the Guardian was using, and someone loses the official reports on the interrogation which means we continue serving," Adrian noted.

"But that's unlikely."

"Oh yeah," the corporal agreed. "I'd say almost impossible, but at this point I'm just hoping we leave this room. Plus I don't think that would even work if it happened. I'm sure _someone_ would remember that he were held here even if the records were lost."

"How'd they know it was us though?" Mathias thought out loud, and Adrian looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"How did they know it was us who were with the Guardian?" he clarified. "When they boarded the ship, they just made their way through everyone else and grabbed only me. There wouldn't have been enough time to question anyone who had seen him, or that he was even there."

"No, they-" Adrian stopped himself.

If they were the only Imperial forces to leave the planet, which was a certainty, and if no one had even been questioned before Mathias had been taken away, then how did these people know at all?

They stopped talking for a moment as the sound of footsteps grew nearer from outside the door, then went back to being relaxed as no one had come for them, and tense for the same reason.

It was maddening. There wasn't even a clock on the wall to keep track of time.

"I don't know," Adrian said at last, his voice cracking slightly as he was reminded of how long ago it had been since he had any water. "They took me away a few minutes after we docked so I thought they might have asked Redolis for the official report, but..."

Footsteps, and then the door swung open to reveal three figures. Gault and Vanic instantly looked up in part worry and curiosity to study the new arrivals.

Two of them were clad in black carapace armor, its high quality plating unmistakable to the pair of Guardsmen. Despite the fact they were wearing face obscuring gas masks and wielding what looked like an upgraded version of a standard lasgun, they were not the most threatening person in the room.

A red haired woman walked between them, clad in an all black armored bodysuit, trench coat, and matching black hat. The Guardsman exchanged nervous glances, and silently conveyed all that they knew.

Most high ranking officers didn't wear onyx-black uniforms like that. She didn't look like a member of the Adepta Sororitas. Whoever it was, was important enough to have two Stormtroopers escorting her, plus however many more were waiting outside. This left only one possible option.

"Private Vanic and Corporal Gault of 5th Imperial Guard Company stationed on Abundance?" she asked them in an accent they didn't recognize.

They nodded their heads, and so did she before turning to face her entourage.

"Sergeant, wait outside until I'm finished with this," she ordered curtly, and the man obeyed. A few seconds later the two Stormtroopers had cleared the room, leaving the Guardsmen alone with _her_.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she began, putting a hand on top of the third chair but not sitting down in it, only resting her arm against it. "I am Inquisitor Adrastia of the Ordo Hereticus."

The pair of Guardsmen's stomachs collectively dropped at the words 'Inquisitor' and 'Hereticus'. As if sensing their fear, Adrastia gave off a slight smile and leaned towards them.

"And I'm going to ask you some questions," she said haughtily.

Not for the first time that day, Gault asked himself just where in the Warp the Guardian had ended up.

* * *

 _Typhon Primaris, Present Day_

 _I had hoped to avoid this moment for as long as I could._

Glatisant put away his auto rifle wistfully, replacing it with a grenade in one hand and his sword in the other. A versatile combination, he had learned, useful for pinning down ranged enemies and killing hostiles in melee range before darting to cover.

He still wished he had a gun though, and Ghost was quick to pick up on it.

 _I have actually figured out how to make you more ammo for that since we're out of usable ammo synthesis, although I doubt it's the way you wanted me to._

 _How?_

 _I can turn Glimmer into synthesis packs, and I think I've figured out how to turn basic materials into Glimmer._

Four Orks with simple war axes charged ahead, and Glatisant almost snorted derisively. It was nothing he hadn't seen a thousand times before this day. The grenade burned two to a crisp, and the remaining two were cut down in short order as he checked to see if he could summon the energy to use Scorch again.

 _Is there a limit on what you can turn into Glimmer?_

 _Yes, actually. That's the main drawback. The problem is, the only way to make Glimmer is through breaking down Golden Age relics. However it may be possible to break down simple scrap metal and 'refine' it into a form of pseudo Glimmer that can only be turned into Ammo Synthesis._

 _Holy shit, seriously?_ Glatisant asked in disbelief, ducking before he got perforated by bolters. _That's amazing, why haven't we done that before, even if it only works for creating ammo?_

 _Because I had no idea how to do this before,_ Ghost replied with some worry in its voice. _Remember when we were in that bunker, and I just somehow knew to send a specific code that opened the vehicle bay doors? That happened a few times while I was trying to figure out how to create ammo. I'm being fed information, and I don't know where from._

"Guardian, advance on that ridge!" the Eldar Farseer ordered, and he did.

At this point, the combat was just tedious, as it had been for the past several hours. Kill Orks for twenty minutes to two hours. Find a Webway gate, find out it doesn't work, and keep trying the same thing.

 _Here's to hoping not only do we find a working gate, but also whoever had been sending data to you,_ Glatisant muttered ruefully.

Ghost didn't respond, and the Guardian didn't notice as the Orks became aware he was bearing down on them.

Armored legs moved so fast they were a blur, easily dodging the incoming shells as Glatisant firmly entered the territory of close range combat. One had fallen prey to the deadly blade of Light, a diagonal gash running across its chest as he continued spinning, taking full advantage of his momentum to clip the neck of another.

If it was a human, the Ork would have fallen to the ground and bled to death in half a minute. Instead, it roared in a bloodthirsty raged and flew off the ground in a flying tackle. Too weakened by its injuries to take his head off it fell short, but not without managing to slice at his heel with a choppa.

It was more than enough to make him stumble. Glatisant tripped, which actually made him dodge an incoming strike from an Ork that was big enough to be a Nob, but left him in the unfortunate position of lying down while the Nob only had to turn around and stab him to get the kill.

Thinking quickly, the Warlock slammed both his palms into the ground, instantly setting all the grass, roots, and more importantly, Orks on fire as Scorch rippled outwards like a shockwave of heat. The fire only really served to stun the aliens for a second at most, but that was enough. The Guardian came up to his feet in a roll, bringing out his machine gun and taking careful aim so as not to waste a single shot.

Three to the head and the Nob finally fell. A few more shots, and the Orks that had just finished recovering from the flames all suffered a shot through the head—and nothing else as their lifeless bodies fell to the ground.

Combat over, Glatisant grunted, and leaned against a tree to rest for a moment. This wasn't like him, Guardians never got tired. Was it the Darkness or his arm? He couldn't tell anymore. He could certainly feel the joints of his shoulder as it ached and pulsed with the energy of the damned, but it felt like it was affecting him in more than just simple pain. It was sapping at him.

It wasn't the only thing that was bothering him though. Once again, he was reminded at just how _tough_ these enemies were. Lesser Guardians would have been killed many times over by now, even with the help of the Eldar. He was barely pulling through and getting weaker all the while.

It made him wonder again if the Traveler or the City had survived.

"The Orks will return soon. The portal?" Ronahn asked.

This again.

Glatisant had lost track of time, but the sun was rising again, only a few beams of light making it past the thick jungle canopy. It was barely a step up from moonlight.

Elariel marched towards the Webway portal as she had done about four or five times earlier in the day. Hopefully this one at least allowed them to summon more of the white armored "Dire Avengers" since their numbers had been dwindling ever since that encounter with the Ork walker.

He still didn't know how in the fuck that behemoth of a machine managed to not only stand at all, but also fight. Ork technology made less and less sense the more he looked at it. Especially after he had tried to use one of their rifles only to take a closer look and find it was literally a series of hollow metal tubes stuck together without any bullets in it.

A few tense moments passed where the Farseer knelt down, pressing a hand to the smooth white arch while everyone else manned the defensive emplacements. Ronahn and the Rangers surrounded her and aimed outwards at all approaches while the remaining Avengers positioned themselves behind the half-shredded sandbags the Orks had been using not a moment before. Glatisant simply stood by, watching for signs of trouble.

As usual, they didn't have to wait long. however, instead of the usual surge of solid cerulean light, the portal seemed to flicker, if only for a moment, before stabilizing to its cool blue oval.

He frowned and looked around, only to find the rest of the Eldar looking to Elariel with faces and helmets that didn't indicate any surprise whatsoever. Had no one noticed or were glitches with these normal? Judging by the amount of overgrowth around it, the structure had to have been here for a while, which could explain it.

"This Webway is functional, through it we can leave Typhon Primaris," she said, much to the relief of everyone present.

The news was so good in fact, that he expected her to add in a 'but' and talk about how the travel range was limited or some other unforeseen malfunction was affecting it. Instead, the Farseer looked between him and Ronahn. "We can travel to Calderis, it is the next best place to fulfill the prophecy."

"Excellent, we do not so much as get a choice where we die in the service of some _prophecy_ ," Ronahn commented bitterly.

Glatisant looked at him strangely for a moment before turning back to the Farseer. "What do you expect to find on Calderis?"

"Veldoran," she answered tersely, though not at him he realized if the staring contest between her and Ronahn was anything to go by. "An Eldar Warlock who will aide us in our journey, as well as a human critical to our mission."

"I thought you didn't work with humans."

"Yes, well, the prophecies have a tendency to void that policy," Ronahn answered before Elariel could.

 _What the hell is his problem?_

 _Maybe his family got murdered by prophecies._

"Right, well," Glatisant broke in. "How exactly do you use the portal?"

"Step through it."

He watched as the Rangers and Dire Avengers went first, disappearing into the field in a small flash of white light on the otherwise entirely cyan oval. This was a lot like a Vex Gate, he realized. At least, it had the same concept.

It wasn't long before it was his turn, when it was just him and the Farseer left. She waited for him to go, and he approached the portal warily.

And the instant he touched it, he was sent far away.

Elariel gave one last look around herself to make sure there were no Orks to interrupt her. Only the empty jungle greeted her.

Satisfied, she walked off into the Webway portal and joined the rest of her party.

The gate flickered once.

* * *

Something seemed off to him the minute he stepped through the portal.

To start, considering how it took the Avengers a few seconds from when they were told to enter their portal and arrived at the one he was at when they called for reinforcements, he had assumed travel would be either instanteous or extremely fast.

Secondly, the Webway appeared to be a method of faster than light transportation that operated through means no one explained to him. However, this did not mean that it resembled any technology he had seen before.

So it was concerning to him that he appeared to be in yet another place no Guardian should ever find themselves in unless they actively sought it out.

The Black Garden.

Was it really though? He had only been able to get to it through a Vex Gate on Mars. Could this be a hallucination, he asked. It was entirely possible it was just a dream based on his memories forced upon him by Webway travel. If that was possible.

Ghost did not respond to his questions. He was alone once more, and that only mounted to his growing suspicion that everything was _wrong_. Even in the actual Black Garden, his companion hadn't left him for anything.

He searched for his Ghost, for the exit, anything. Through the haze of Time and Darkness that permeated the dimension. Just like the first time he had visited, it made him feel small. A fragile creature standing in an ocean of a primordial force.

 _A dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead._

Who the hell said that?

He whirled around, looking everywhere for the source of the disembodied voice. Unsure of what he'd find, maybe Atheon?

Nothing. Just the endless red flowers that bloomed into the infinite and the ambient aura of Time and Darkness.

How did this place still even exist? Shouldn't it have withered away after so many millennia without the Heart to sustain it? More questions he didn't have the answer to, and his Ghost couldn't even confirm it for him.

Maybe if he waited long enough then the vision or dream, whatever, would pass. Or perhaps if he searched for an exit he could find the Eldar and escape. Actually, that sounded like a good idea, in spite of the fact that the Garden was infinite and the same.

A glint of something in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and the Guardian turned to face whatever it was.

There, amongst the blooming red and the tomorrow and the yesterday and the Time, was a flower that was different from the others.

It didn't resemble any he had ever heard of before. A chrome stem hooked up to a simple metallic sphere that glowed a soft blue. Not at all like the one that had blossomed for him when he tried to resurrect.

But there was nothing else. Only the endless space that simply was the Black Garden. Hesitantly, he reached forward and attempted to pluck the flower.

 _A dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead._

Every bit of Light within him instantly screamed at him to get back, that no matter what he could NOT afford to touch it and to just run away.

Glatisant immediately listened to his instinct and drew his hand back, right as the flower bloomed and 'faced' him, its center looking like an optic that glowed the same color as his Ghost, but with infinitely more hostility.

 _"Why do you fight, child of the Traveler?"_ it asked him in a voice that didn't go into his ears but straight to his mind. It reverberated around his skull and made his head spin.

 _"What?"_ he asked back, slightly dumbfounded at the talking evil flower.

 _"Your god is dead,"_ it explained patiently as though he were a child. _"You will never see your home again. There is no escape for creatures such as you. Why are you still resisting?"_

Until it stopped talking, he was assaulted with so many different sensations it made it difficult to stand. The background Darkness combined with this thing's words were tearing him asunder, and there was nothing he could do to stop it except wait for it to finish talking.

 _"What are you?"_ the Warlock managed at last, recovering enough to launch a question of his own.

 _"I?"_ it chirped, and for one horrible, sinking moment, it sounded just like his Ghost. _"I have many titles. Your kind have called me the Black Garden."_

 _"That's..."_ he struggled to come up with the words. _"Impossible. That's a place. A dimension. You're not-"_

Suddenly, all the pale aurora-like light disappeared entirely, leaving Glatisant in total blackness save for a small circle of Light around him. The sky turned black and began to ripple outwards like pebbles dropped into water.

 _A dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead._

Hang on, he had seen that before. Wasn't that were Eliphas had forced him to fall into?

 _"I am more than that, servant of the Traveler."_

Now there was a definite source to the noise. It wasn't coming straight to his mind anymore, it was coming from the sky. A bronze and pitch misshapen object appeared, and he recognized it instantly. It should have been impossible. It was dead. The Sol Progeny had died trying to defend it.

He began to get more frantic as it beat faster, quickening and making the ground around him churn.

Suddenly, he began to get a dizzying sense of clarity on exactly what was going on: The Black Garden wasn't a place. The ground was its body, the sky held its organs, and the air was its breath. He wasn't at a physical place, he was standing on top of something _alive._

 _"I am not something that can be denied, and you have avoided death for far too long."_

 _A DEAD THING MADE BY A DEAD POWER IN THE SHAPE OF THE DEAD!_

The air rippled like he was standing on hot tar, and Glatisant felt himself get bodily lifted into the air. He struggled to break free, and stopped when it began to constrict him. He wheezed for air, lungs being boxed in by his ribs as his vision became blurry from the pain.

 _"You wear your Light like a coward and pretend it makes you righteous. You destroy those who attempt to bring order to the universe and think you are the hero. You are here because you are a slave to the dead. Why do you not die?"_

There was no way to even answer. It was strangling him and devouring him and tearing him apart at the same time.

There was no way out, and he felt his Light begin to dim for what felt like the final time, giving out and failing to repel the onslaught. He fought back with all his remaining strength, but he wasn't a god.

Not even close.

 _ADEADTHINGMADEBYADEADPOWERINTHESHAPEOFTHEDEADADEADTHINGMADEBYADEADPOWERIN-_

A pair of powerful hands grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him backwards.

* * *

As Elariel left the Webway once more, she couldn't help but be proud of herself for a few moments.

If their plans were going well, then Veldoran would already be in place for their next mission, and the Space Marines would be too busy fighting each other to deal with them. At which point, the only true threats were Chaos and Tyranids, both of which her group had proven capable of taking on if their past performances were anything to go by.

Her group.

It made her feel strange. A little prideful of the fact that she had proven a competent commander, she admitted to herself. As a member of the Seer Council of Craftworld Ulthwé, she had a fair few centuries of combat experience. None like this, however. It was exhilarating, if it weren't for the fact she had been blinded almost at the start of their journey, but her mind was straining itself less and less to use her abilities.

Heat and light were the first sensations she felt upon her exit through the Webway, and Elariel immediately felt her happiness fade, and disgust in humanity renew itself.

Why was it that the humans had the idiotic tendency to settle upon such harsh environments? It could have been for any number of reasons, she realized. Their stubborn pride, refusing to admit defeat no matter how apparent it was. That grim determination to keep fighting even when all was lost and it was better to retreat than fight another day. They were frustrating creatures, and that frustrated her.

Speaking of...

The Farseer looked at the surroundings without her eyes and felt her confusion grow.

Right now, they were in a narrow ravine that housed the exit portal. Its arch was obscured if the shadows that the cliffs above cast down on it were any indication, which explained why the humans hadn't instinctively destroyed it. Red and sand-colored rocks were the natural walls boxing them in, and her escorts were crowded around what could only be the Guardian.

All this, from her use of the most latent Psyker abilities, and it already felt exhausting to see even that much. The effort had taken a lot out of her, but she still had a job to do. Starting with finding out what had gotten everyone to pay the Guardian attention.

As she stepped towards them, she smelled something acidic and sour and wrinkled her nose as she activated her helmet's filtration system. Webway travel didn't usually induce nausea, at least to her knowledge it didn't.

"Guardian?" she questioned, then winced as she felt his presence.

Even when she was almost completely blind in both sight and as a Psyker, the Guardian had been emitting a presence that she recognized. It had to have been Light, there was nothing else that radiated so bright like a powerful Psyker but without the Chaotic force that came with it. When she first encountered him, he was practically swimming with it, feeling like a blinding beacon that warded off all threats.

Now though, it felt so... breakable. Like a dying lantern that might just shatter if she nudged it wrong. It almost made her pity the creature, being able to sense his pain and his afflictions.

"Just give him a minute, alright?" an unfamiliar and drone-like voice said after a whirring noise.

Elariel could hear the Dire Avengers raising their weapons, and she immediately shot down that idea. "Stop," she instructed, and they obeyed, though she could tell they did so hesitantly.

The Farseer walked forward, parting them as she approached the kneeling form of the Guardian, and looked to the source of the voice. "Who are you?"

"I am the Guardian's Ghost."

"And that is?"

Before it could respond, there was a groan as Glatisant began to right himself. Slowly, getting to his feet with tender care so as not to injure himself. Elariel only spoke again when she heard a slight _click_ of what must have been his helmet, locking into place.

"Are you well?"

"Farseer," he breathed out, hissing and clutching his sides as he spoke. "How long should it have taken to travel from Typhon to here?"

An obvious question if she ever heard one.

"Given that we entered not long ago, and are here now, the answer to that is 'instant'," Ronahn answered for her. Something she was grateful of, for once.

"And is there... anything that lurks inside the Webway? Like Daemons?" he questioned, coughing lightly as he spoke.

Now the line of questioning had begun to worry her. Maybe his Light could have dimmed because it was overloaded by entering the Webway but that wouldn't explain why he was asking her this. "...No. What happened to you?"

The Guardian let out a hacking cough that threatened to break his lungs before answering. "That's what I'd like to know too."

* * *

 _If you do this, there is no telling what you will find. You may not like what you see._

 _I understand._

 _No. You don't. But you're still going to try anyways, that much is obvious._

 _So is there any reason I'm still here?_

 _I suppose not. Are you ready?_

 _Yes._

 _Then go. Your destiny awaits._

* * *

 **A/N: And not for the first time in even a day, Glatisant walks through a portal and immediately regrets his terrible decision.**

 **Reviews!**

 **Rook435: Hey thanks man! I was hoping I could write a fight scene that didn't completely suck, I'm glad you thought it was great! It is a shame he's dead for now though, dude was funny.**

 **MEleeSmasher: I was actually contemplating it, gonna see how this plays out first. About the new Guardians I mean.**

 **Jashl Xxify: Eh, I wanted to write them and so I did. I'm sorry you don't like them but that's how I wrote the story and I'm not going to change them. I do have to agree that there were kinda a lot, so I'm spacing them out.**

 **Eipok: You would be surprised how much I've needed to clarify these things in the past.**

 **TooLazyToLoggin: Because while the power does exist and he's especially aware of the Vex doing it, it's not exactly common. Besides, he basically recoiled in shock for like, four seconds then said, "alright whatever." If you're referring to his hesitance to believe her, it was more on account of him believing she could discern the future but not trusting she was telling him the whole truth.**

 **ww1990ww: I honestly had no idea that was the original plot. So no, although that was interesting to read.**

 **Guest: Xur is nowhere to be found.**


	11. But Should We Stumble

**A/N: School's gonna start up again for me and then college so I won't have as much time to write. I'll still try but updates are gonna be kinda slow.**

 **But enough of that boring shit, after the release of chapter 10 this story totaled more than 10,000 views, over a hundred follows, and 69 reviews. Aw yiss. You guys are awesome, and I'll keep writing as long as you want me to.**

 **Now, I owe you a chapter don't I? This one's a little bigger than the usual ones I write, as my way of saying 'sorry I suck at adhering to a schedule.'**

* * *

 _"The Traveler is life, I said. You are a creature of Darkness. You seek to deceive me._

 _But I looked behind me, down the long slope where the blossoms tumbled in the warm wind and the great trees wept sap like blood or wine, and I felt doubt._

 _When my Ghost raised me from the sea there was a thorn-cut in my left hand and it has not healed since." - Pujari_

* * *

 _Calderis, Present Day_

The Black Garden's damnable injuries it had inflicted upon him mercifully went away in seconds. He didn't have any visible injuries, but Glatisant could tell they were fading the moment he felt his lungs fill up with air and not bile. When his ribcage didn't feel so constricting and the dull pulses of agony were able to be blocked out by simply concentrating on something else. Instant relief.

Except for his shoulder, but who knew if he'd ever be able to fully heal from that. Maybe he was wrong and there was a Chalice of Light somewhere out there. At this rate, it was quickly becoming his only hope, he thought as he breathed in.

The air was dusty and tasted a little acidic, but that was probably just from throwing up. At least the spots on the edge of his vision had long since cleared after exiting that pseudo-hell. As the Guardian managed to stand without swaying, he looked to the Farseer who stared right back at him. Did she even need to? The woman was clearly blind and yet possessed powerful, if inhibited Psyker talent.

He saw her gaze flicker to the Webway, the fiendish device that was nestled against the slot canyon. "What did you encounter?" she asked softly.

 _"Who,"_ he corrected her, "The Black Garden. It spoke to me."

"...What." A blank stare.

"The Black Garden," Glatisant began to explain, "A separate dimension, apparently also a sentient entity that was worshipped by the majority of Vex Programmings. It all but starved the Traveler of Light along with the Hive after the Collapse."

The Eldar didn't seem to have any response to that.

"It's an evil place that thinks," he snapped at Elariel, too exhausted to be patient. "And somehow it spoke to me when I walked into that portal. Care to explain?"

Elariel looked at him strangely, as strangely as one could when wearing a face obscuring helmet. "...I cannot, Guardian. What you say may not have necessarily been something residing in the Webway. It could have been an attack from Chaos on your mind directly."

"Well then why weren't you targeted?"

"Would we be having this conversation if I knew the answer?"

He glared at her balefully. Thankfully, Elariel seemed to pick up on it, and turned to face the rest of their motley force. "There is a military outpost not far from here that the Blood Ravens use as a supply depot. That's where we'll find Veldoran. After that, we need to find the human from the prophecy."

"Do you know where to look for this human?" he asked.

Elariel brushed past him, drawing her staff and holding it close to her as she flattened herself against the wall to fit through it, beckoning them forward.

"I know we will meet soon," she said, walking sideways through the narrow passage. Ronahn and the Dire Avengers weren't far behind her. Glatisant sighed, an action he seemed to be repeating a lot in recent times. Then he followed the Farseer.

* * *

 _Abundance, Present Day_

"Another one locked?"

"The power's out. They're all locked."

"Setting charges. If we don't find whatever she's looking for soon we're frakked."

"Cut the chatter," Sergeant Seifel told the two idle Stormtroopers. "After we clear this next room we'll double back, get more charges. Then it's up to the Techpriests to see if there's anything useful in here."

"Yes sir," Private Weaver replied. She concentrated for a second, delicately removing one of the Promethium-filled explosive devices against the doorframe at just the right angle. Too far into the seam and the metal sliding door would melt at all the wrong angles, and in some cases would weld it against the wall. Too far outwards and it wouldn't do enough damage.

Satisfied as she stuck it against the barrier, Weaver reached for their kickoff charge. A modified Krak grenade that held only a fragment of its normal explosive power, but was able to be detonated remotely and held a shaped charge. Perfect for breaching doors.

"All set," she reported, and her sergeant nodded as Parker gave his acknowledgement, the second private setting up in one of the alcoves in the hallways that seemed to be perfect cover for anyone in a gunfight.

She pulled out the fist-sized detonator and flipped the safety covering off the trigger, locking eyes with Seifel. At his nod, her thumb hovered over it while her other hand gripped her Hellgun tightly. Then the resident demolitions expert of their particular fire-team began a countdown.

"Breaching door in two... one... breaching!"

A flip of a switch. A shortwave radio signal. And just like that the chemical reaction began.

First off was the slight shockwave that they all felt reverberate through the floor, a side effect of lodging an anti-tank grenade into a part of the structure itself. Then came the heat wave from the Promethium.

Green sparks leaped off the door and splattered against the ground, leaving dark black spots that burned into the floor. Had any of the three-man squad remained too close to the door their boots would have been reminiscent of Swiss cheese. Instead, they wisely took cover behind the jutted out segments of metal, allowing the deadly breaching process to do them no harm.

Ten seconds passed. Seifel got up cautiously, his hotshot lasgun aimed through the now steaming doorway and into the dark room. Parker and Weaver rose as well, each of them copying their CO and sweeping for targets until the silence and heat settled.

"Seriously? A two second countdown?"

"Parker, take point," Seifel ordered him. The man looked ready to defy that order for a second, if only out of annoyance before resolution set into his face. "Aye, sir."

He advanced slowly, though less to avoid whatever dangers might be beyond the smoldering doorframe and more to stall for time as the heat from the Promethium went away. It wasn't long before he was followed by Seifel and Weaver, the sergeant and private covering his flanks in a carefully practiced manner that held only a fraction of the alertness as when they had started clearing the rooms.

It was a lot harder than the average person thought it would be to stay alert when your job was so _boring._

"Lights," Seifel ordered. Their lasgun-mounted flashlights cut through the darkness, but only a little at a time. Parker barked an acknowledgement before turning to the wall, hoping to find a switch like he had in all the other areas.

Time passed, and still no light. "What the hell's taking so long, private?" Seifel demanded.

"The switches are usually to the right of the door sir, and I can't find them he-"

"Found it!" Weaver yelled triumphantly, pulling at the wall-mounted lever. She groaned with effort at it, was that rust fusing it shut? It didn't seem to matter, it gave way with a sudden snap as electricity flowed into the room from one of its remaining generators, and illuminated the room.

"Whoa," Parker muttered, surveying their bright surroundings. A fairly large rectangular room, like a small atrium, almost. From his position near the door he could make out two catwalks that didn't seem to be for walking, if the lack of railing was anything to go by. Instead massive wires were laid on top of them, leading to the far end of the room, which held...

"What in the name of the Emperor is that?" Weaver asked the question on everyone's mind.

It seemed that every wire, every coil in the room fed into one single thing; a black and rust-colored mess of metal tubes arranged in a circular formation around a slightly raised portion of the floor. Metal plates with small tabs that jutted out from the inserts decorated the ring, covering it like a sort of haphazard sheath.

Seifel didn't answer Weaver's question at first, approaching cautiously with his lasgun trained firmly on the center of the defunct device.

"Sir?" Parker asked him carefully, his own weapon sweeping between his sergeant's left and right flank as if afraid something would come out of the few shadows in the brightly lit room and attack them.

"You two ever seen anything like this?" their sergeant asked them, his intent gaze focused squarely on the most definitely xeno device.

"Just a guess, but maybe it's a piece of Necron technology the radical Inquisitors here were studying?" Weaver offered after a moment of consideration. Not that she was going to tell them it was a completely wild guess since she'd never fought Necrons before.

"Doesn't look like anything Necron I've ever seen," Parker told her. He was also not going to admit to her that he'd only fought them once, and once was more than enough for him.

"No," Seifel responded, reaching out to the thing while keeping his lasgun ready for action in an iron grip with his other hand.

The second his fingers brushed against the metal construct, the lights went out and the sergeant instinctively fired—straight through the center of the machine. The hotshot lasgun did its job, discharging a massively powerful shot that pierced straight through the metal wall on the opposite end of the room, shearing away metal and leaving molten flakes to drift to the ground.

"Shit!" Parker screeched, though more from being startled by the lights more than actual fright. He hadn't become a Stormtrooper by allowing his fear to get the better of him though, and neither had Weaver.

"Weaver, Parker, sound off!" Seifel hissed as he took a cautious step back, the other two privates also sweeping the room and its sole exit for targets.

"Green, sir."

"I'm alright."

"Acknowledged," he called back, finally locating them as he hit a switch on his helmet, activating a small flashlight. He pointed at Weaver. "Check the lights. Parker, cover her."

"Yessir!" they chorused, and together they retreated back to the lever. Parker drew his bolt pistol, a gift from a Salamander Space Marine for bravery. Coincidentally enough, it was the same battle where he'd first encountered Necrons, and when he'd been selected to join the ranks of the Stormtroopers.

"What's the status with those lights?" Seifel asked, his impatience setting in.

Weaver was trying to figure that out herself. The rusted iron was most certainly in the 'on' position, but the lights were very obviously not on.

So she followed the golden rule to fixing all electronics, and in one swift motion, moved the switch to 'off' then 'on' again.

The lights came on, and everyone looked straight at the foreign device, sure it was the cause of the blackout.

Everyone swept the room for targets, and didn't find a single thing out of place. A few tense seconds later, and Seifel motioned them forward. They did, following his example of slowly advancing while trying to remain alert for targets.

More than once, they found their eyes drawn to the lights above them in the fear they would go out again.

"Sir? What do we do now?" Parker asked.

"Get out," Seifel replied, turning around in a 360-degree arc to make sure he hadn't missed anything while holding his hotshot lasgun in a ready position. "We're leaving this place, and telling the Techpriests to set up some generators and deployable lights. Now let's go."

That order booked no arguments from them, and they hastily began to walk to the burnt-out door-

"What the frak?" Weaver uttered in shock. Her teammates had much the same reaction, staring ahead in varying expressions of surprise at the once completely demolished and now intact metal door.

 _The only thing none of them had been watching when the lights came back on._

"Uh..." Parker turned back, the ring made of wires was still there, and still unmoving. He looked again at the door, mind struggling to comprehend what in the Warp had happened.

"Something's wrong with this room," Seifel said through gritted teeth as he grasped the rifle tighter. "Breach the door."

"I'm out of Promethium, sir," she responded. Outwardly, the female Stormtrooper was attempting to be brave but on the inside she was panicking, if only slightly at the regenerative door.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But not charges. Use however many you have left and blow it off at the joints, we'll use Parker's bolter and my lasgun to take down the rest."

"Yes sir," she nodded, following his orders. Two of the modified grenades, that was all she had left. Whatever, it would do. It would have to work. She worked with all the tenderness of a an artist painting on an easel, placing her only remaining grenades at the bottom left corner of the miniature blast door.

"Ready. Breaching in three," she began.

"Oh, we're back to three second countdowns now?" Parker asked her, trying to inject some humor into the situation. No one laughed.

"Two..." Sergeant Seifel looked at the great machine that all the assorted wires went into. It was as silent as a tomb.

"One... breaching," she said, much more softly this time.

The ensuing bang would have been deafening if they were in the hallways, but in this miniature atrium it was much more merciful to their battered eardrums.

Much less dust in the air this time, due to the absence of a Promethium secondary explosion. As a result, the Stormtroopers were able to move quickly, Parker and Seifel moving to the door as Weaver checked the room for hostiles once again. It paid to be cautious, and their laxness in not watching the door had resulted in... well, _this._

"Okay, we can still do this," Seifel said. "Parker, the door retreats into ceiling. Shoot out the bottom right corner, we might be able to lift it up enough to crawl through."

"Got it," the private acknowledged, raising his bolt pistol. Another bang, almost as loud as the charges themselves, and the .75 caliber high explosive shell began to rend at the metal. A second shot, and the corner was blown off its hinge just like the other, leaving fist-sized holes in each side.

Seifel nodded at the bolter-wielding private. "You lift up that side. I'll get the other. Weaver?"

"Yeah, covering," she responded, hefting the Hellgun's stock against her shoulder.

The two men squatted down in front of the door. Seifel cracked his knuckles and Parker held the back of his gloved hand to the door, pulling back at the residual heat. "Okay, let's do this," the sergeant said.

"Ready? Go! Hraaaagh!"

Both men groaned with effort, straining their muscles as they pulled up as much as they could. It wasn't an easy task to begin with, but the bolter had blown jagged shards of metal outwards that cut into Seifel's palms, and Parker was feeling the heat from the grenades through his gloves.

Weaver frowned, though not at them. "Guys?"

"What?" they turned to look at the only thing in the room that could have caught her attention, but the ring was still dormant. "What happened?"

She gestured at it, struggling to come up with the words. "I don't know. I thought I saw a flash or something but..."

"Try again?" Parker asked. Agreeing, his sergeant kneeled down and dug bloody trenches into his hands as he grasped the blown-out edges of the door. "Pull!"

The doorframe actually began to groan at the effort, screeching with the sound of metal on metal as it began to shift, ever so slowly. When they both moved back from exhaustion, the door had risen almost half a foot above the ground. Seifel grinned ever so slightly. Progress.

"Weaver, get over here. Lift up that middle section," he ordered, moving to the side of the door to give her more room. She frowned at first, but another glance at the portal proved it was as still as ever. "Right, sir."

The three of them began to lift together, and this time there was a noticeable result. Their strength combined, plus the fact that escape was now something that was clearly _possible_ was more than enough motivation for them to pull with all their might. The trio began to lift the door, much faster this time, and they all gave weary smiles at that.

Then the door slammed straight downwards and sank into the floor—and cut off all of Weaver's fingers with a _scrunch_ , separating them at the bone.

She screamed a bloodcurdling cry as the pain overwhelmed her momentarily as Seifel gave a shout of alarm, and then the lights went out.

"Frak!" she cursed, cradling her fingerless hands close to her chest, breathing heavily with exertion and pain. "I can't-"

"Shut it!" Seifel ordered, and Parker clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her silent screaming even as he rifled through a pack on his hip for some rudimentary bandages. "Did you hear that?"

There was a rumbling noise, and then the lights came back on, flickering all the while.

Parker laid Weaver down, letting her rest on the floor as he instinctively reached for his rifle. The ring at the end of the hall wasn't so dormant anymore. Sparks of electricity were leaping off of it and the coils in the surrounding area, whipping at the air and making all the hairs on his neck stand on edge.

The ring began to pulse with power, lights on its frame glowing an intense shade of white as it coalesced in a dazzling array of light. Suddenly Parker felt immensely stupid, this wasn't just some random artifact the Inquisition had dug up, it was a _portal._

Seifel was the first to get up from his kneeling position as he looked around the room. The veteran Stormtrooper had fought nearly every enemy of the Imperium of Man, but none like this.

"Chaos?" Parker asked him. The sergeant nodded. "Has to be. Give her some painkillers if you got any. I'm gonna tear this frakking thing down."

"Understood sir," he responded. "Weaver- come on. Sit up, just hold on," Parker tried, attempting to calm her down as he dug into one of his many pouches for some antiseptic and bandages. She gurgled a response, blood flowing from her mouth and Parker wiped it away on instinct before a thought occurred to him.

Weaver had her fingers cut off. That wasn't the type of wound to cause someone to bleed from the mouth.

"Sergeant!" He shouted, medical kit forgotten as he drew the bolter. No response.

The Private turned around as quick as a whip, and right off the bat noticed something out of place.

One, his sergeant had been standing in the middle of a room where there was nowhere to hide and he was now nowhere to be seen.

Two, the gate was glowing bright white once again.

There was a horrible, mechanical sound that seemed to bear down on him with all the pressure of a ton of steel. When ordinary people heard something frightening they might have gotten a shiver up their spine, or felt their skin crawl.

This was an entirely different league of menacing, it wasn't just threatening, it was ominous in the most indescribable way, and it made the experienced Stormtrooper recoil as he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. _Fear._

He forced himself into action, turning back to where Weaver was lying on the floor and dove as he fired his bolt pistol rapidly, yelling a war cry in desperation as he did, and hit nothing but empty air.

Parker suddenly became aware of a bright red light behind him, and it wasn't from a lasgun.

* * *

 _Calderis, Present Day_

It was sunset by the time they exited the narrow slot canyon, and nighttime when they followed a set of railroad tracks, the first landmark of any civilization in a long time. The entire desert was an odd shade of dark blue and gray, courtesy of the moonlight's reflection upon the rust-colored dirt.

But everyone was mostly preoccupied with the fact that instead of Blood Ravens inhabiting the small base the tracks lead to, Chaos had beaten them to it long ago.

 **"ARE YOU READY TO MEET YOUR FALSE GOD?!"** the corrupted Chaos Marine snarled at Glatisant. It didn't look like the ones from the Black Legion, this one had a dull white shoulder pauldron and armor that was as red as the dust on Mars. Why they always felt like yelling was beyond him though.

Fortunately for him though, the servant of Chaos was too busy yelling to register the threat of the Warlock drawing his rifle, freshly stocked with new ammunition.

Solid light perforated the marine, tearing it apart on a molecular level as it stumbled backwards. from the bullets. He elbowed a similarly corrupted Guardsman, then entered a leaping kick, sending both his feet crashing into the marine's cracked helmet. It fell to the floor, and he felt the Darkness leak out of its dead shell.

 _That it's even capable of infecting things like this is worrying._

 _You think it could infect the Hive?_ Ghost asked him. Glatisant pondered the question, rolling it around his head along with the question of how he was going to destroy the tank that had just entered the battlefield by blasting away at his Eldar allies.

 _Possibly, if the Darkness doesn't reject Chaos,_ he replied, taking the opportunity to reach for his most powerful weapon. Soon enough, he felt the comfortable weight of Gjallarhorn in his hands. _If what Elariel said is true then it would require that Chaos has something to offer them, and the Hive don't seem like they would negotiate with its gods._

The divine weapon shot out a single rocket straight towards the black and gold tank. As the lethal projectile sailed through the air, Glatisant couldn't help but wonder why the Chaos Space Marines here were apparently from local corrupted 'Chapters' but the tanks were from the Black Legion.

Apparently the tank's driver was skilled, immediately banking hard to the right and braking. If it were any other type of weapon, the rocket would have overshot its target, if only slightly, and impacted the ground which would do little to no damage.

Gjallarhorn was not like any other weapon in existence, past or present.

Much to the horror of the Chaos forces, the deadly projectile curved its trajectory and slammed straight into the side of the tank, boring a hole right through layers of armor in an instant. The show wasn't over, a cluster of rockets flew outwards, and they didn't just pepper the tank with impacts, they _ventilated_ it, and decorated the entire area around it with miniature but deadly explosions.

Threat neutralized, the Warlock responsible for the destruction leapt up to roof one of the pueblo-like structures. Now he had higher ground, his enemies were disoriented by recent explosions, and he had a fully loaded exotic auto-rifle. Perfect.

A grenade went out, forcing an unlucky quartet of cultists and Guardsmen who aimed at him to become dust. Glatisant ripped his rifle from its holster, took careful aim, and fired.

A single well placed shot straight through the eyepiece of one of the marines was enough to fell it. He stopped at that, momentarily stunned by his amazing luck before shaking it off and continuing to fire. It was as though he used up as his luck for that single shot though. Emptying the rest of the magazine into the crowd of hostiles crowded around the husk of the tank only yielded a few kills, while they quickly returned fire, shattering the waist-high wall on the roof. It was time to leave.

Sprinting to the other side of the roof while reloading, the Guardian drew his sword and his exotic shotgun as he dropped over the side—missing flattening an Eldar by millimeters and almost getting shot by them before they realized who it was.

Elariel gave him another look—he could never tell if she was scowling at him or not, before she shot a bolt of lightning out from her staff. He looked at it as it fried one of the Chaos Marines, tendrils of lightning arcing across its armor as though she had shot it with an Arc weapon. Had she been able to do that before?

"Veldoran is on the other side of this tunnel at the supply depot," she gestured to the massive canyon in front of them. They were currently taking cover in a few of the local buildings, while the Chaos forces were located in and around a mine that was covered by a colossal blast door. "If we slay all the tainted humans around the entrance, we can meet with him."

"Got it," he answered her, hefting his machinegun. "I'll take down the Space Marines, you keep the rest of them off my back."

He was met with a nod, and felt reassured. Regardless of his misgivings about whether or not her prophecy was completely true, she was an able combatant and so were the rest of them. They would not fail him.

The Eldar were the first to spring into action, as every Ranger, every Dire Avenger, even Ronahn and Elariel joined in fighting back. A tidal wave of shurikens tore the defenders of the mine entrance asunder, sending body parts and blood spurts into the air. Return fire was almost nonexistent, anyone who dared to counter them were split apart by blue beams of light or lightning bolts.

Meanwhile the Guardian charged forward and plucked a broken lasgun from one of the many corpses and added it to his inventory, breaking it down in a flash of light as it was churned up through a lengthy process of creating ammunition.

 _Just a heads up but you may not want to do that too often. At least, not against anything Chaos-related,_ Ghost warned him.

 _What?_

 _Don't break down their weapons. Too much Chaos. You and I can filter it out pretty easily, but do you remember when I told you that you should avoid death since you were suffering from brain damage back on Abundance?_

 _I had forgotten, to tell you the truth,_ Glatisant admitted a punched a Guardsmen covered in eight-sided tatoos. The force of the blow was enough to completely break his neck, and send him flying backwards into the sandstone-collared dwellings this world seemed so fond of.

 _Well I hadn't. After you got wounded by Chaos, the damage done to your brain and neural network seemed to stabilize and repair itself. And I don't think it was your own Light doing the repairing. I suspect it might be the same thing that's been giving me information._

 _Okay, I actually want to continue this conversation. It's actually really intriguing and I think we should definitely get to the bottom of it,_ Glatisant started as he entered a sprint, _but that's going to have to wait until this thing dies._

 _What-_ the ground cracked and shuddered, a few loose pebbles being tossed into the air from shockwaves, and the biggest mechanical creature the two had ever seen thundered forward.

Dwarfing even the Vex Hydras, the monstrous creature in front of them was without a doubt, a product of the Black Legion if the black and gold color scheme was anything to go by. It was a bipedal construct, with a fat body that was built like a tank and covered in sinister sigils that seemed to project something into the air, but he couldn't tell what. It was evil though, that much was for certain.

Glatisant was no fool. He knew he wasn't a Titan, not able to deploy a mighty shield that could survive all but the strongest of blows and that Sunsingers weren't meant for heavy-duty combat. However, he also knew how the Eldar were much more fragile than even him. If that thing turned its attention to his allies for even a second...

It was unacceptable. There was obviously only one way to solve this.

* * *

Elariel's head pounded with a headache, but she paid it no mind. With hands raised high above her head, she let loose a blast of energy that was so intensely torrid it wasn't so much a normal bolt of lightning as much as it was a single bright white beam from her hands to her target.

Not one, but two Chaos Marines fell victim to the massive onslaught of Psyker energy, with holes the size of their heads burned through their center. As they fell to the ground so did the Farseer, although that was more from exhaustion than anything else. She forced herself back to her feet as the feeling passed, once more feeling frustrated and tired. Exertion from using her powers was normal, but after only half a day? At least her powers were coming back at all though.

"Dreadnought!" Ronahn warned them, shaking Elariel out of her reverie. She watched in horror as it spun up its massive assault cannon and spat out a stream of explosive projectiles, literally tearing one of the buildings in half and ripping the Eldar in it to shreds. Four dead, in barely half a second.

Then two of the Guardian's rockets slammed into it. One struck center-mass, doing little damage but making it cease fire. The other one flew into the one weak area of all armored walkers: the legs.

Hydraulic wires and servos whined after the explosion cleared, and for a moment it seemed like the machine was going to remain standing.

Then the secondary rockets, _how in the Warp did those work?_ emerged from the explosion before doing a loop and flying right back into its ruined joints.

The results were disastrous this time, and as it wobbled uncertainly to try and find footing, the Chaos Dreadnought made the last mistake it ever would—it put all its weight onto its weakened leg as it swayed dangerously low to the ground.

 _WRANG!_

The separated leg was still lodged firmly into the cracked dirt, refusing to give up its traction. However, the same could not be said for the Dreadnought it had detached from.

Buckling under its own weight, the gargantuan thing fell backwards, gun pointed straight into the air. A couple of Chaos Marines and corrupted Guardsmen surged forward to try and defend it, but that proved to be a fruitless endeavor. Enraged by the losses it had incurred, the remaining Dire Avengers redoubled their efforts and attacked with all that they had.

One of the Chaos Marines died simply due to being shot too many times, blood spilling from every hole that had been torn into its wicked armor.

Two Guardsmen died when Ronahn blew one's brains out with his rifle and the shot went right through unimpeded, taking another's heart out of its chest cavity.

And the unmistakable white glow of the Guardian's sword shone in the sunlight as the creature in question leapt onto the Dreadnought. It roared indignantly, then ceased when he gripped the blade with both hands and drove it into the Adamantium chassis. He placed a boot on its held and _pushed_ like it was a shovel, and it sank into the walking vehicle all the way to its hilt.

"Area clear," he intoned, shooting the last traitor Guardsman that tried to scamper away from the fight. _Coward._

Elariel sighed and retried her staff. Never mind that. "Move to the door, get ready to open it. I need to do something for a moment."

"..." he didn't respond verbally, choosing to move up to the entrance of the mine. There was a console with important-looking lights and buttons near the door, and he walked towards it on general principle that it would unlock the door.

Meanwhile, Elariel went into the shattered building. This was the part she hated the most about fighting. No matter how hard you fought, how many outcomes you predicted, some things were unavoidable. Losing people was one of those things.

It made it easier, dealing with the fact that these were not the first or the last to die under her command, but it didn't remove the burden on her conscience completely. It also wasn't any easier to sift through rubble when she was blind.

Elariel felt among the collapsed structure, picking up chunks of debris and tossing them aside. She could still _see_ them, just not in the traditional sense of the word. Tossing away the crumbled bricks and scooping out dust, she came to the body of one of the Eldar who had fallen.

It would have been pitiful to see if she still could, and the Farseer was for once, thankful she couldn't see his corpse. Reaching into a pouch, she retrieved the only thing that mattered at the moment: the warrior's Spirit Stone. It pulsed softly, reacting to her presence, and she let out a melancholic smile. She hadn't been able to save them on the battlefield, but she could still save them from Slaanesh.

There was a shuffling of boots against bricks, and Elariel felt someone else's presence join her. An Eldar.

"Shouldn't you be watching for a trap?" she asked him dryly, continuing to grasp at the broken apart building. He was hardly the only victim of that deadly fusillade of bolsters.

"Your team can handle themselves just fine," Ronahn answered, and she was surprised at the lack of venom in the word 'team', and only further shocked when she spoke again. "I came to help you."

Well, this was awfully tedious work.

"Start over there," Elariel gestured. "At least two in that area. There's another here but I can get it."

He stepped over the shards of broken glass and corpses gingerly, and joined her soon enough. They set to work with utmost care, as though afraid they would destroy the fragile vessel that protected them from the Great Enemy.

What a shame, Elariel thought mirthlessly. That their only thing in common was their reverence and respect for the dead. At least he was helping her though.

For a time, there was no noise but the sound of rubble being moved and the wind against rocks. It lasted for a few minutes at least, broken when the sound of the great door that barred entrance of the mine began to split apart, sunlight spilling through the entrance. Elariel felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

"I didn't tell them to open it yet," she said, scooping up another of the precious Spirit Stones and moving to help Ronahn.

"If you're worried about the Guardian he seems capable enough," Ronahn muttered. True to his word, they both perked up at the sound of gunfire and moved to see what was going on.

An intense firefight, by the looks of things. A Chaos Marine stumbled through the massive double doors that had been opened only a fraction of the way, covered in blood that was most certainly its own. Another followed after, but this one was running and gripping a chainsword. It flew through the air quickly, too quickly for Ronahn to reach for his rifle and-

A crack that was as deafening as an artillery cannon split the air, and while it didn't kill the flying Marine, it went straight through one of its jump jets. It howled in rage, but gravity and momentum gave no fucks about how angry it was. The monster careened violently into a pile of creates, sending them scattering even as a Ranger put a round through its skull when it got to its feet.

"He can handle himself," Ronahn said again, though more to himself this time as the battle seemed to die down in intensity, the battle shifting towards the Guardian and the Eldar forces.

Elariel cast her gaze downwards, scanning at the ground with her mind and finding three recovered Spirit Stones. "Only one more left," she told him as the former Pathfinder joined her in digging. This poor soul must have borne the brunt of the assault, she felt her hands brush against a bloody leg that had been turned into a pasty mockery of limbs.

Elariel sighed. All this death, all for a prophecy that may or may not result in saving a fragment of the sector. She was beginning to see why Ronahn wasn't appreciative of them.

They dug and dug and dug, and finally found what they were looking for. The remains of whoever had been in the building. Now a mangled heap of flesh barely held together by torn apart armor plating. What a waste.

"What do you think, Ronahn?" Elariel asked him as her fingers undid the clasp on the dead warrior's chest, releasing the container for his soul.

"What?" he asked, apparently puzzled by the question.

The Farseer rose, Spirit Stones in hand as she began to store them in a pouch on her armor. "About the Guardian. The Prophecy. And I'd prefer if you'd keep the sarcasm out of your reply."

Ronahn clenched his jaw, although she wouldn't have noticed if she could see thanks to him covering half his face. "I think that the Guardian is a powerful ally, and that the Prophecy is an exercise in futility."

"And why is that?" she asked him. The sound of gunfire had completely faded away this point, whatever was in the tunnels had been cleared out. It wouldn't be long before Veldoran ran into them, hopefully seeing the Guardian with the rest of her troops would convince him to ask questions first and not attack immediately.

"What's going to happen is going to happen," Ronahn explained. "And no amount of prophecies is going to change that. We will either succeed and save the Eldar in this sector, or we won't. Obsessing over prophecies and trying different ways to interpret them is just going to drive you mad," he said in a huff, looking to the mine. "Besides, you're a Farseer and I'm an outcast. You should know more than I."

"Maybe so, but I value the opinions of those I work with from time to time," she said to his half-insult.

"What's that?" Ronahn asked, not looking at her.

Elariel paused to answer before realizing the question wasn't directed at her, and she snatched up his rifle to peer through the scope even as he gave a start.

"Right on time," she whispered before looking at him. "Follow me!"

* * *

 _That is one fashionable hat._

 _If the stylized 'I' is anything to go by, this is an Inquisitor. Be on your guard._

 _I'll watch out._

The woman in front of him looked imposing to be sure, with her wide brimmed black hat and pistol and sword. He eyed the sword strangely. The gun could hardly be called a pistol, more a handcannon but the sword seemed to reverberate and cut through the very air itself with what little movement she allowed by standing still. His instincts told him to not let it touch him.

"I must say, I'd heard of your exploits but I didn't think I would run into you so quickly," she said in a voice that he stopped at. What kind of accent even was that? It sounded ridiculous.

"Really? Who told you about me?" he ventured cautiously at the behest of his Ghost.

Before she could respond, Elariel and Ronahn appeared, the latter of which brandishing his sniper rifle while the Farseer approached without any measure of caution. "Hello, Inquisitor."

The woman's lips curled upwards in slight disgust and she glared distastefully. "I should have known you witches were behind this. And I suppose you've kidnapped the Guardian too?"

"It's more a temporary assistance type of deal, actually," Glatisant muttered softly, but the Inquisitor's eyes were on him.

"Is that so? Well then, allow me to introduce myself," said the Inquisitor with a semi-sarcastic flourish. "My name is Adrastia, of the Ordo Hereticus."

The Eldar to either side of him tensed, the only exceptions being himself and Elariel who simply stared straight at her as she smiled darkly.

"And I'd like to make you an offer, Guardian," she said at last with a grin that was far too wide to be friendly.

* * *

 **A/N: Once again, HUGE thank you to everyone who reads this story and especially to those of you who review. And once more, special thanks to Romans-154, author of Through the Timestream, which is a somewhat similar story that inspired me to make this fic. Great writer, that guy. If you haven't already, go check it out.**

 **And now the review section;**

 **Kamzil118: Hey thanks, I try to go back and check for errors or see if the writing just doesn't flow well, though I still make mistakes sometimes. I'm glad to know you're enjoying it. Sub-Sector Aurelia is about to experience some major changes, starting with the Guardian.**

 **ww1990ww: Nah homie it's not Nurgle. He doesn't know shit about the Black Garden.**

 **Guest: Oh you're the same guest from last time? Anyways, yeah. I always considered the Black Garden as a being on a higher plane of existence than even the Vex were as far as Destiny's plot is concerned. Thus being its own force. The rest of the races will have their fates uncovered in due time.**

 **thefluffyone93: Totes.**

 **Konerok Hadorak: Well I'm about as subtle as a brick being put through a woodchipper, so I'm honestly not sure of who you're thinking of. I'm trying to write these chapters at a minimum of 5,000 words per chapter, with the exception of the first which is just a prologue. Again, glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you liked this one!**


	12. We Do Not Despair

**A/N: Holy fucking delays, guys.**

 **I'm awful sorry this took way, WAY longer than it ought to. I got sick, got better, then got sick immediately after and it was a whole thing. Also it sucked.**

 **Though to be quite fair, that was like, a week long thing. A lot of the reason I haven't updated is I was just too lazy to write anything worth reading so I didn't do it.**

 **But hey, I'm writing a lot to balance out for the amount of time I spent not updating this story at all, so there is that. Sorry this took an entire month. Or more. I don't care enough to look, but I'm sorry anyways.**

* * *

 _One day ago, Unknown location,_

XCCS914911200000000000000- ERROR

%%%#! D((#!(*& B?_&#_) #! ERROR

WARN: SYS FLR

/REBOOTING TO BASIC FUNCTIONS\\\

/STANDBY\\\

[ CORE FUNCTIONS RE-ESTABLISHED ]

/RUNNING LAST KNOWN COMMAND\\\

XCCS91491120XH12

ERROR: END OF DATA STREAM /WxEWN/UNKNOWN

RECEIVING DISTRESS SIGNAL

GDN-TLR-TYPE 3

/RUNNING DEEP SCAN PROTOCOLS\\\

{ERROR: SCAN FAILURE}

{0.4% OF ALL REMAINING ISR ASSETS OPERATIONAL}

{SEVERE DAMAGE TO ALL SYSTEMS}

—VOLUPSA OFFLINE

—YUGA OFFLINE

/REROUTING POWER TO REMAINING ISR ASSETS\\\

/INITIATING BASIC RCNNSSNC SCAN\\\

/STANDBY\\\

Remaining ISR assets report TOTAL SYSTEMS COLLAPSE of solar defenses. Surface-level scan detects UNKNOWN CONTACTS OCCUPYING SOL. Cannot determine exact date of occupation.

Processing capability and information network SEVERELY WEAKENED.

/INITIATING BASIC RECONAISSANCE SCAN FOR TRANSIENT EXTRASOLAR ENTITY\\\

/STANDBY\\\

V113NNI070XMX001 - ENTITY CANNOT BE LOCATED

Current hypothesis: TRANSIENT EXTRASOLAR ENTITY possibly fled SOL after occupation. Alternate theories include DEFEAT OF TRANSIENT EXTRASOLAR ENTITY as well as SOL ENTITY-01 leaving the system. Unknown if defensive actions were sufficient. (SYS FLR)

Recommend immediate course of action to determine if the threat has passed. SKYSHOCK is still in effect. CARRHAE WHITE is still in effect.

/INITIATING DEEP SCAN FOR TRANSIENT EXTRASOLAR ENTITY\\\

/INITIATING DEEP SCAN FOR GDN-TLR-TYPE 3 DISTRESS SIGNAL\\\

{ERROR: SCAN FAILURE}

{INTERFERENCE FROM EXTRASOLAR EVENT AT GRID THIRTY THREE THETA DETECTED}

WE'LL JUST SEE ABOUT THAT.

STOP STOP STOP XCCS91491120XH12

* * *

 _Calderis, Present Day_

Eyeing the surroundings for the sixth time didn't turn up anything new. Adrastia appeared to be alone, the Inquisitor still wearing a sinister grin that all but screamed 'I have something you need and you're not going to like what you'll have to do to get it,' while acting completely calm and composed in the face of about twenty armed Eldar plus himself.

It was unsettling, if only slightly. The way she carried herself with such calm in the face of so many possible hostiles. Then again between the Black Garden's attempted assassination attempt, waking up in this _galaxy_ to begin with, and fighting monsters on par with the primordial avatars of Darkness, all of today's events could be described as unsettling.

Plus she probably had... whatever the Inquisition had for their elite infantry troopers stationed nearby in case he decided to turn hostile.

"What kind of offer?" he asked cautiously, awaiting an explanation.

"Simple, I'd like you to work for us-" Adrastia began,

 _No,_ him and Ghost said at the same time.

"-in the same manner you are currently assisting these... Eldar. I don't suppose they told you of the situation on Typhon?"

Glatisant narrowed his eyes at the apparently rhetorical question. She already knew. "Imminent Exterminatus and somehow I'm the only way to fix it."

"Ah, so that's what their prophecy was about," Adrastia said as she paced from side to side, clearly thinking about something.

Meanwhile, the Farseer broke her silent leer with a thinly veiled threat.

"Inquisitor, I speak for all of us when I say we would _prefer_ ," Elariel stated, emphasizing her words carefully, "that you tell us your offer or stop wasting our time."

Adrastia ceased her grinning and pacing at last, turning to face them with a somber look on her face. "Did they tell you _why_ the Imperium is going to destroy the worlds of this sector?" she asked the Guardian, not giving any indication she so much as heard the Eldar.

Glatisant didn't even know the Eldar could look more hostile, but somehow they pulled it off. They gripped their rifles tighter still, aiming them directly at chest level with the Inquisitor, who still didn't show any reaction to the deadly instruments.

Still, in spite of their obvious hostility this was an opportunity to get information he hadn't been given.

"No they did not," he answered truthfully. Thankfully enough, the Farseer didn't look at him for telling her that. Maybe deep down, she knew it was a _little_ unfair to keep him in the dark for so long about what could possibly be crucial information. Or maybe she just found it more pertinent to focus on the Inquisitor than him.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Azariah Kyras?"

He didn't know what he expected, but that certainly wasn't it.

"I've been here for barely two days," Glatisant deadpanned.

"Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens," Elariel answered for him, her own gaze not deviating from the Inquisitor who threw the Farseer a mildly hostile look. "Suspected of heresy by a Space Marine commander but without proof, not even an investigation was mustered."

"Until now, that is," Adrastia said dryly, the first time she so much as indicated listening to the Eldar. "The Ordo Hereticus is conducting a secret investigation into the possible corruption of the Blood Ravens Chapter Master. If sufficient evidence is found that proves him guilty, then the system-wide Exterminatus will be revoked."

"And you want us to find that 'evidence' you're looking for," the Guardian finished, curling his lip slightly at the prospect of both fighting more enemies of Chaos, and working for _them_.

Adrastia nodded after a moment of hesitation, gaze flicking between him and the Farseer. "I want you to pursue the matter. But since you _Witches_ are here..." Adrastia murmured, pondering the new development. "I suppose I am soliciting a xenos for help as well, yes."

No one seemed to have anything to say for a while, or if they did they didn't want to be the ones to say it. _How can I trust you_ and _Why us_ in particular kept bubbling to the surface of Glatisant's thoughts in particular. Double checking with Ghost only reinforced the notion, that this was not an offer to be taken lightly.

But he wasn't one to turn down a bounty without seeing what he would get out of it.

"And what's in it for me?" he asked. "You're offering me a job and haven't told me what the reward is."

Adrastia's lip twitched slightly, as if moving to smile or frown, he couldn't tell, before moving back to a neutral thin line. "Very well," she replied. "In addition to saving the planets of this subsector, the Inquisition is prepared to give you all the data it has concerning your arrival, which is extensive."

 _That_ shot his interest up, and apparently Elariel as well. The Inquisitor's face was as imperceptible as ever, whatever scheme she was undoubtedly playing at hidden by an impossibly neutral expression.

Still, Glatisant had been lied to before. "I don't believe you," he growled out, even as Ghost worked feverishly to see if there was an ounce of truth in the offering.

 _...certainly possible, it makes sense too. The Inquisition, their logo was plastered across every wall panel in that bunker you woke up in, they had to have kept logs somewhere, even if it was off the facility. But I don't know if Adrastia is being truthful, or if it'll yield any information on getting you back._

 _But there's a chance?_ the Warlock prodded. _If we find out how they brought me here, then we could find a way to send us back, right?_

 _Almost no chance at all, but yes, there is one. I've been studying the Inquisition as much as I can based off the combination of data I got from the Guard and the data packets from nowhere. The Inquisition hasn't existed for that long, thousands of years at most. Which would imply they grabbed you from wherever we were in Sol, far in the past. If they could take you out of time..._ Ghost began to realize.

 _Then we could use whatever it was they did to capture me and reverse the effect?_

 _Possibly,_ Ghost said sadly, already knowing what his companion's answer would be and that it was their only option. Again.

It was at this time that Elariel took a step forward while motioning for her troops to lower their guns, which they did, reluctantly. "You said that finding this proof will halt the Exterminatus?" the Farseer said, nothing but utmost seriousness and regality in her voice.

The wide-brimmed black hat dipped slightly in another nod. "Yes," Adrastia answered, "As for why we cannot do it ourselves... this is not an investigation sanctioned by the rest of the Ordo Hereticus, I can only act with what assets I have for this operation. As such, I can't afford to spend the vast swathes of resources it would take to find incriminating evidence," the Inquisitor explained.

Frankly, that gave him about as many questions as answers. "Earlier, you said that the 'Ordo' was conducting an investigation in secret," Glatisant noted warily. "Now you say you're acting alone, and on limited resources, which doesn't convince me on your plan."

"Inquisitors often work alone, for reasons that depend on the nature of the assignment. And let's just say that the Inquisition keeps many secrets," Adrastia said confidently. "The research that occurred on Abundance did not go unnoticed by my search efforts."

Glatisant nodded once. "Right. Ignoring that, you still haven't explained the investigation part."

"That?" her hands thrummed idly against the golden hilt of a sword on her hip. "The rest of the Ordo Hereticus are conducting their own investigation, but progress is slow. I am acting on my own accord, as... as a personal favor to an ally of mine in the Blood Ravens," she muttered to the ground.

"Who?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Adrastia shrugged off the question noncommittally. "Find damning evidence against Kyras, and the Inquisition will halt its Exterminatus, as well as provide you with all the data regarding your unique situation," she repeated, summarizing before adding: "I suppose your Witch companions may go as well."

"We accept," Elariel answered before he could in the same neutral and regal tone, and the Guardian looked at her strangely. Was she that trusting or- Psyker. Right.

"And you, Guardian?"

He huffed, looking around. No one be paying attention but the Inquisitor and Farseer, while every other Eldar merely held their guns across their chests, ready to fire but not yet hostile.

"I accept your terms," he replied evenly, deciding to play along with the Farseer. Maybe she had a plan in mind.

Adrastia nodded solemnly, her grin from earlier absent. "Then I wish you luck, Guardian. You don't have much time."

She swiftly turned around, and walked over the carcasses of the dead Chaos worshippers and Marines, disappearing around the giant mound of rock and dirt that made up the mine entrance.

Glatisant wheeled around to Elariel, demanding an explanation. "Alright," he started, looking to make sure the Inquisitor was actually gone as well as any more servants of Chaos. Not seeing any on his scanner, he faced the Farseer. "Please explain why you just did that," the Warlock asked calmly but firmly.

The Farseer looked at him lazily from the corner of her helmet, and Glatisant narrowed his eyes. Usually, talking to another Guardian or someone else wearing a helmet felt perfectly normal to him. Two faceless people having a conversation without any advantages against the other. But against the being that practically _oozed_ the same energy those cultists used felt like she could see right through him-

No. He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly. Elariel's power, while flickering intermittently from the work of the Hive, if her story was to be believed, was not like the cultists. Hers was controlled, purposeful, and powerful. Like a wave from the ocean. Not the literal and metaphorical sea of Chaos that the wayward humans had used.

"I agreed to help Adrastia in her mission," said Elariel. "To find evidence against Chapter Master Kyras, preventing the destruction of this sector. I said nothing of giving assistance beyond that."

Glatisant grunted. "And why are you so concerned about this sector? If those Webways are anything to go by, you and however many Eldar in the system can just retreat and save yourselves if that's what you're concerned about. Unless you aren't capable of that, which I don't believe, or if there's something of value here that you can't lose."

He had to give her credit, either to however much experience she had in maintaining composure or using some subtle Psyker trick to fool him, she didn't appear to flinch at his accusations. "No. I-"

"You can stop with the charade," he interrupted. "I saw how intensely you asked her about the Exterminatus. There _is_ something here you can't take through the Webway, and this part is just a guess; but this is where I tie into the prophecy you had about saving the sector and whatever critical assets you're holding onto, right?"

There was a metallic sound, so synthetic through her helmet it sounded more like a machine had made the noise and it took a few seconds before his mind connected it to a sigh. "You are lucky, _monkeigh,_ that you are critical to our mission. Anyone else wouldn't be fortunate enough to remain standing after saying that."

"So I'm right then?" he prodded.

"Yes. Now come, it is time to look for Veldoran. He should have been here by now."

There was a voice in the back of his mind that said to keep prodding for information, but there was something final about the Eldar's tone. Instead, he just nodded. Best not to press his luck too far for now. Besides, they had given him plenty of information already. They stepped into a steady march down the tunnel that bore straight through the small mountain, silence falling between the Eldar and the Guardian as they went.

 _Ghost,_ he requested, delving into his neural network briefly, feeling around for his companion.

 _I was listening to that exchange, in case you were wondering._

 _Good. Go over all the data you have concerning the sub-sector. Look for anything the Eldar fought for or defended, whatever, that they couldn't evacuate._

 _Working, but I don't know what I'll be able to find._

 _It'll have to do. Anyways, this is just a stretch since all we know is some emperor took control for mankind sometime after I got put under, but do you know what happened to the Awoken? Or the Exos?_

 _No,_ Ghost replied absentmindedly, concentrating on doing as its Guardian requested and sifting through the vast datastores it had collected. _The lieutenant told me of many alien species, including ones that had been brought to extinction, but none match the description of the Awoken. And... I don't think the Exos survived after what the Imperium did to their own automatons._

 _Hm._ Glatisant said, and his thoughts drifted back to Lucifer and Helia, the Exo Hunter and Awoken Titan he had met shortly after being rezzed. Had the pair survived the millennia of war that the galaxy had suffered? Or had they died along with the Traveler, whose Light he _still_ couldn't find.

As if sensing the uncomfortable thoughts its Guardian was drifting to, Ghost changed the subject. _Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about what happened while we were trapped in that bunker._

 _I've been wondering about that as well,_ Glatisant replied. _Do you know how the Inquisition forced me to enter the Other Side after dying?_

They both knew what he was talking about. When most Guardians died, they entered a purgatory sort of world that was built on their memories, sometimes even of their past life before becoming a Guardian. In it, they remained for a near indefinite period of time, and as long as their Ghost could return to them and they weren't in places of great Darkness, rising from the dead was a breeze.

Not the case for Sunsingers, however. They entered their own neural networks upon death, with the ability to come back to life in a fiery display of Light with or without the assistance of their Ghost. Still, even they eventually went insane or died forever if they stayed deceased for more than a few weeks. There was only so much brain damage that their Light could shield them from.

So the fact that he had been dead for so long that his Light should have bled off of him and it had been impossible for him to resurrect on his own as well was a massive cause for worry. Let alone just _being_ in a place no Sunsinger was ever meant to tread upon.

 _That's the thing. I don't think it was the Inquisition who did that, I think it was the Vex._

 _The Vex?_ Glatisant asked, almost tripping over some scorched railroad tracks. _How?_

 _Well we did get sucked into one of their Timegates, if you'll recall._

 _Right, and while my memories are fuzzy when I think of the time just before I ended up in that prison of a bunker, I don't recall us being closely followed by the Vex._

 _I'm saying that instead of the Vex on Venus chasing you, the ones already in the Timegate found you._

 _And what, locked me up? That still doesn't explain ending up in the Other Side, and for so long yet still being able to come back._

He stepped over a broken up piece of railroad track, pausing as he looked at the metal track. It had bloodstains all over it, and lacerations from what looked like some kind of bladed weapon—but there was no body. It didn't look like the work of Chaos worshippers.

 _No, and this is where the argument becomes purely theoretical._

Glatisant sighed. _I'm all for theories._

 _The Timegates are all linked together, much like the Webway is for the Eldar. At some point, while you were in the world that the gates lead to, you ended up getting trapped at the hands of the Inquisition._

 _Right, and that's what I thought as well. It doesn't explain how I got sent to an afterlife I don't belong in, or how the Vex tie into this._

When you spent all of your time after being resurrected sharing a piece of your mind with someone else, it became easier to tell what they were doing as time went on. And the way there was a soft but crazed buzzing and reverberation in the back of his head, Glatisant could only fathom what thoughts were racing through his Ghost's mind.

 _I think that the Inquisition had some type of Psyker combined with captured Vex technology. They used the reverse engineered tech to trap you, and the Psyker to keep you dead for as long as they could. As for being in the Other Side... maybe that wasn't the Other Side at all? It could have been an illusion, how your mind perceives the Timegate world._

 _Plausible, but then why did we get woken up by a simple Guardsman running into the containment room I was in? So many years with no one maintaining the supposed wards keeping me locked up would probably let me leave earlier wouldn't it?_

 _I'm not sure. The facility looked abandoned for a while though, maybe whatever measures the Psykers put in place had faded by the time you woke up?_

 _Yeah, maybe. Listen though, this has been bothering me ever since you brought them up. If the Vex Timegates are still around, and they are able to leave it at will..._

 _Then what?_

 _Then what's stopping them from coming through and fighting us?_

Their conversation came to an end just like the tunnel did. Ronahn had taken point, his sniper rifle raised as he crept forward, and everyone copied his example. Even in the darkened corridor of a railway tunnel in the middle of the night, Glatisant could still see the _remains_ of the massive doors that were meant to close off this entrance.

Vaguely fist-shaped imprints dotted the entire face of both doors, which had been blown apart in a direction they were never meant to go. What the hell had happened here?

"This is not the work of amateur servants of Chaos," Ronahn stated the obvious, even as their weapons swept at the nighttime air.

"We should hurry. Dawn is coming," Elariel said, stepping forward and pointing to a collection of lights and small buildings not far from them. "Veldoran should be at the bottom of this hill-"

She stopped momentarily, helmet twitching slightly. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" one of the Dire Avengers next to her asked. Frowning, Glatisant crept forward, rifle raised and ready to fire. "I don't hear anything."

"No, _listen._ "

Glatisant did as he was told, even if he rolled his eyes at the request. A Guardian's senses were heightened far beyond what they used to be, regardless of species. The powers of Light bestowed upon him by the Traveler were enough even to bolster the audio receptors on an Exo, however that worked. Right now, his ears strained to pick out different sounds. There was the distant billowing of the wind, the sound of dead leaves rustling, and-

He froze. There was something else, something sinister. It was a sound that no Guardians ever forgot and something the unprepared and the unlucky would never live to hear again.

Ronahn looked around, peering through his scope at the small outpost. "I don't see or hear anything."

"Guardian," Elariel asked, drawing her weapon slowly. "Do you hear them?"

He met her gaze and nodded grimly, recognizing the threat for what it was. "It's the Hive."

* * *

 _Meridian, Same time,_

"Incoming!"

Captain Reese very narrowly avoided being turned to liquid by the ensuing fireball that engulfed the Capital Gardens when he made the wise decision of vaulting over a waist-high ledge of piled up debris. Instead, the rapidly-expanding sphere of orange fire a few yards away only managed to incinerate the remains of one of the tanks his division once held, as well as about ten to twelve Guardsmen who were too close to the impact.

The captain in question didn't fare much better, being barely out of range of the kill radius himself. The shockwave was still very much existent, and sent his battered body flying through the air, and colliding into a metal fence that had somehow managed to survive days of intense warfare.

Even through the haze of being so nearly eviscerated by artillery though, his almost completely deafened ears could vaguely pick out what his communications officer was trying to say into their vox unit.

"...Negative, that was too damn close, you almost killed all of us! Retarget at these coordinates! One-six-two, alpha..." there was a pause, accompanied by a lot of ambient ringing that Reese was fairly certain was tinnitus, before he heard officer Ziege's voice again. This time with more worry.

"Shit! Message didn't go through! Everyone get dow-" he yelled out, words not registering in time for the exhausted remnants of third company to take action. Not a moment later, the second shell arrived.

It brought a fresh wave of ringing to the ears of the survivors, and a swift death to those that were nearest. The force of a 132mm high explosive shell was more than enough to completely flatten what little remained of the battlefield, as well as kill a few of the surviving Guardsmen who had foolishly run out to try and drag their wounded comrades to safety.

Despite having all the air knocked out of his lungs, Reese hauled himself to his feet and staggered over to the communications officer, snatching up his vox and glaring at it as though his hatred could stop what was happening.

"This is Captain Reese, of third company of the 172nd Meridian Infantry Regiment," he shouted as clearly as he could manage, feet wobbling slightly simply from the uneven feeling one got after surviving an artillery barrage.

"I am ordering you to stop the frakking bombardment operations on..." he paused to recollect. "...Operational area Babylon. Repeat, cease fire immediately!"

Reese wiped some of the dirt and sweat that clung to his forehead away, wiping it on his fatigues as he turned to the communications officer. "Did they get any of that?"

Officer Ziege barely acknowledged him at first, shaking his hands and staring down at the ground before snapping his head back up and realizing the question. "I-I don't know sir," he admitted, hefting the heavy vox unit off his back and onto the ground in front of them. "I don't see any damage done to the unit, so I think something's jamming us from sending or receiving messages, but I think that got through."

Reese grunted. _Maybe_ and _I think so_ were not the kind of words anyone wanted to hear on a battlefield, but it was the best they had. "Fine, we'll just have to keep an eye on the sky from now on," he replied, trying to make the situation sound winnable and failing, even to himself. He grimaced as he looked around though, at the beaten and blown-apart bodies of the Guardsmen under his command. "Casualty report?"

"Paulson and Jorik's squads are dead, sir," some nameless Guardsmen reported, limping towards them with his lasgun as support as he shuffled about. "And almost everyone is wounded, some are in bad shape."

Captain Reese swore. He barely managed to escape from those _things_ the first time his woefully ill-equipped force ran into them. Now the situation seemed completely hopeless. Then the vox crackled to life, barely audible to the now well and truly deaf survivors of third company.

 _"...ay again, Captain Reese do you read?"_ a tinny voice asked, and Reese held out his arm, waiting for Ziege to pass him the receiver. "This is Reese, go ahead, over," he replied.

A five second pause ensued, with only the sounds of distant artillery and screaming to interrupt the silence. _"Okay Captain, we've got hostiles swarming all over the Capital. The Astartes have secured the north, and we've got enough armor to handle the south, but-_ bzzzzzzzzt _"_ Reese winced at the static before it normalized again. _"-trance to the gardens. Do you copy?"_

"What?" Reese breathed out, going over the information he'd been told and looking over his remnant forces at the same time. "No command, I do not 'copy'. You are out of your frakking minds if you think we can secure the gardens against another assault. Send us reinforcements or we are not going to be able to complete the objective, over."

More static. So much silence he had begun to think command had been destroyed and the rest of his soldiers were almost finished with retrieving survivors until the vox delivered its last message. _"Negative on that request captain. The Astartes have their hands full as it is, and we can't spare any vehicles at this time for armored support. Just hold out as long as you can, over."_

"Are they insane?" Ziege asked no one, receiving no answer as his captain unslung his lasgun and the other Guardsmen sat down in shock. "We're going to get slaughtered if we stay here!"

Reese had stopped paying attention by the second half of the message upon realizing help wasn't coming and they were going to have to survive on their own. A prospect he did not relish. There was a crunching and shuffling of boots against concrete as a pair of his troops came forward, one leaning slightly on the other. He looked up and nodded, recognizing one as a private, Stacker, and not knowing the other.

The standing Guardsman gave him a haphazard salute while the other just gave him a nod. "Sir," the wounded one began. "We've gathered up the critically wounded and the medics are trying to stabilize them. Everyone else is ready to move on your orders."

It took a few seconds for it to sink in, that the two men in front of him had no idea what command had said, and Reese took a moment to brace himself for what he had to say. "Negative, Guardsmen. We have new orders from command, we're staying put and holding this area down."

"Uh, what, sir?"

"You heard me, Stacker," Reese mumbled, checking his lasgun for faults. A few new scratches, the sights were a little bent, he'd get that fixed later- dammit. He would get that fixed later if he survived.

"And command is telling us to stay and fight, no reinforcements or anything?"

"Uh-huh."

"And did you tell them-"

"Out of their frakking minds, yeah. Also the other entrances are being guarded by Space Marines and tanks, neither of which can be spared to help us."

"What kind of grox-shit decision is th-"

"Stacker," the other Guardsmen leaning on him said, even as the upset soldier was about to speak up again. "Shut it down," he said sternly, which the private did, reluctantly. "Orders, sir?" he asked.

Reese didn't give any outwards response that he'd heard the question, but he was mulling it over in his head. The more that he thought about it, the more he realized their situation was beyond awful and probably doomed to fail, but there was that chance... "Did Stahl and his spotter, Len survive?" he asked, thoroughly confusing the pair of Guardsmen, one of which dug into his pockets and retrieved a crumpled note before answering.

"Yes sir, but Stahl suffered heavy injuries. His spotter is relatively unharmed, sir."

"Close enough," Reese said, coughing lightly as a bit of ash got into his lungs from all the destroyed buildings. "Have him and someone else post up at the tower there," he said, pointing towards the structure in question. "This place was designed with defense in mind, tell them to look for an external power source for his lascannon."

"Yes sir!" they chorused, and began their slow journey back, the crippled Guardsmen hobbling along as Reese turned his attention back to the battle at large, trying to figure out how to win against hopeless odds. "Ziege, map."

"Yessir!"

A moment later, and Reese had in front of him a torn and slightly burnt map of the local area. The entire Capital Gardens area was a series of massive terraced buildings, each linked together with four of them containing bridges to the Governor's palace.

At least that's what it used to be like. Earlier in the day, fifth company's resident demolition experts had destroyed most of the bridges linking the actual gardens together, and one of the bridges leading up to the governor's palace. This only really left three possible approaches, two of which were guarded by Space Marines and an assortment of tanks, respectively.

Which presented a problem to Reese, who was in charge of defending the third and most vulnerable way to the palace by land. A task that involved defending the mostly-flattened garden, which could be summed up as a giant metal square of concrete and steel, with the occasional blasted remains of where trees had been planted, a few piles of rubble, and some destroyed Leman Russ tanks. There were only two buildings on the entire garden. One was the tower he had ordered the lascannon gunner crew to go into.

The other was a bunker with half its innards exposed by friendly fire artillery.

"Ziege," he ordered, seeing the officer straighten up slightly in his peripheral vision. "Gather at least a dozen men and take them with you to that bunker. You're going to be our primary line of defense."

"Understood sir," the officer nodded shakily, grabbing his lasgun as he jogged off to fulfill his orders.

That only really left him with about ten or so men left, if his memory served him correctly. Fortunately there was still that Guardsman who had given him the initial casualty report with him. He was already facing Reese expectantly, as though anticipating the orders that were coming next. "What's your name?" Reese demanded.

"Murphy, sir?" the Guardsman in question responded nervously. Either from adrenaline or being questioned, who knew. Reese didn't' care. "Alright Murphy. I want you to get all our remaining troops and scatter them in a semi-circle around this area," he instructed, pointing at key areas on the mostly-intact map in his hands. "We're going to use the rubble and tank carcasses as cover. We have a little bit of time before the next attack, so we might be able to drag some of the debris and use it as a barricade to deter them at first-"

The Guardsmen paused, taking in the details as he looked around at the desolate gardens, all pockmarked with craters and littered with corpses. "Sir, I don't think we have enough men left to do that," Murphy said quietly.

"What?" Reese asked.

"Like I said sir, two of our squads are down. We don't have enough people left, especially after the recent battle at the northern bridge," he answered.

Reese arched an eyebrow, somewhat irritated. "I thought we still had enough after Frederick's squad went with Paulson?"

"Not after we had to combine what was left of Paulson's squad with the wounded from the first battle, sir."

"Emperor dammit," the senior Guardsman muttered, realizing his plan wasn't going to work through sheer lack of bodies. "Do we have enough to form a defensive line by Stahl's gun emplacement at least-"

Murphy's head _exploded_ into a shower of grey brain matter and purple lightning before he could even respond.

"Shit! Xenos incoming!" A Guardsman cried out.

"Get down, now!"

Reese swore and dropped low, even as the Capital Garden once again erupted into gunfire, explosions, and screams from all around him. And an all-too familiar and yet so strangely _foreign_ enemy appeared over the horizon.

They were strange, bony creatures with a papery, almost leather-like carapace that strained to cover their impossibly grotesque features. Like bastardized humans, with eyes that used the sight of the Damned and with enough teeth to give an industrial grinder a run for its money.

More worryingly was the fact that they advanced in endless numbers with ranged support from their accursed purple rifles of bone that ate away at their flak jackets and left survivors wishing they had died.

The new Xenos were upon them in seconds, easily a hundred or more appearing faster than they should have been able to. The ones with glowing claws and featureless faces were at the front, screeching and clawing at the air, charging forward with all the mindless ferocity of a bloodthirsty Ork as if their rage alone could tear apart the Guardsmen defenders.

But even in their weakened condition, the battle hardened men of third company were no slouches. Even Ziege had managed to get enough soldiers into position in the battered fortified bunker, and a steady stream of lasgun fire cut into the approaching swarm.

The melee combatants fell in droves, and when the gun-wielding ones rained purple bolts of death upon their position, that's when Reese and everyone else who had fallen out of position raised their lasguns and returned fire.

One of them was spun around from the impact of three separate lasgun shots, each one pushing it back until it fell flat against the ground, dissolving into that strange onyx-black mist that all these creatures turned into upon death.

"Advance!" he roared, fully depressing the trigger on his lasgun in less of an attempt to kill the approaching pale-green Xenos and more to dissuade them from countering. It worked, especially when everyone followed his orders and his example, sending the deadly lances of light into the crowd of aliens.

It was a good effort, but it simply wasn't enough. Even the smaller blind creatures with glowing white claws were able to shrug off a beam or two before succumbing to the intense blasts of heat and light. The lasguns poured their deadly bombardment of light into the charging crowd, but there was only so much that could be asked of the badly-depleted ranks of a single regiment.

"Fall back!"

It felt like only a few seconds had passed before they lost the central courtyard, pushed all the way back to opposite side of the garden. A Guardsman screamed as he was bisected by the approaching Xenos, its claws swiping through him like a sword through paper. His corpse disappeared from view, the sea of alien bodies swarming around it to do Emperor knew what.

Then a blinding beam of red-white light screamed its way across the battlefield, casting an eerie glow across the ranks of the alien menace before it slammed into an unlucky sword-bearing Xeno and promptly incinerated it.

It turned out to be the luckiest of those in the blast zone though. The shambling creatures nearest it screeched in agony as they weakly allowed the ground to greet them, burn marks covering one half of their bodies while the other half had been burned into dust by the beyond intense display of heat.

Reese dared to turn his gaze skyward, and was met with the sight of two Guardsmen with face-obscuring masks in the guard tower at the far end of the garden. Both were manning the heavy lascannon responsible for the recent mayhem, and the spotter flashed him a thumbs up before motioning for a new target.

Invigorated by the recent success, the captain rose up and sprayed the aliens in front of him with lasgun fire, the close range barrage proving too much even for their carapaces. "Come on!" he snarled, partly at the Xenos and partly at his men. "We're gonna push these frakkers all the way back to the factory district!"

The combination of cheers and war cries that arose after that declaration was loud enough to drown out the sounds of battle for a few moments, and the remaining Guardsmen deployed in force. The stream of lasers from the only fortified position they had never let up for a moment, a deadly ray of light constantly pouring out of it and into the invaders. All the while, the occasional blinding burst of light came from the guard tower, vaporizing a column of Xenos and blasting a crater in the concrete and metal landscape.

The tide of the battle began to shift, although the damned aliens didn't seem to notice at first. Their seemingly mindless swarm coursed onwards, being cut down like chaff before they even reached the advancing soldiers of the Imperium.

Through what must have been either impossible luck or a blessing from the Emperor, few Guardsmen fell to the Xeno's counterattack. Those sinister violet streaks of light that seemed to warp the very reality of what it touched were fired, but it was sporadic and uncontrolled. They were startled! Reese realized with a grin, continuing to hold down the trigger on his lasgun even against his training.

"Forward!" he shouted, vaporizing half the head of another of the diminutive clawed ones. "We can hold this position if we get them out of the garden!"

It wasn't long before even that seemingly insurmountable task was accomplished. The once intimidating sea of snarling and shrieking bodies were now mostly reduced to laser-melted corpses. Whatever was left was putting up a halfhearted effort at a fighting retreat, returning to the massive bridge that spanned the gap between the high-rise structures.

As usual in a battle, it felt like an hour had passed, but in the same minute they had begun their push, the Xenos had completely retreated. A few Guardsmen sent some lasers into their backs, scoring the occasional hit, but the creatures only cried out in pain and shuffled away, not able to keep up the offensive they needed.

A startlingly quiet few moments settled over the rooftop of the Capital Gardens before the survivors realized what happened. They had _won_.

They were exhausted, wounded, and flat out _depleted_ in every sense of the word, but the remaining men of the 172nd Regiment sent cheers into the air that could have been heard for miles. They had survived, and it was just now sinking in.

"Emperor's frakking bowels," Ziege murmured softly, hobbling up to Reese but only staring off at the abandoned bridge. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that the captain didn't even think to reprimand him for the remark, too much in agreement with the sentiment.

"I can't..." he kept staring, breath coming out in short bursts between his statements before a grin spread across his lips. "Won... we- I can't believe we won."

There was only the sound of far-off gunfire and the sounds of celebration that had died down but were still very much ongoing a few feet away from them. "Yeah," Reese said, forming his own smile. "We did."

Then the guard tower exploded in a shower of debris and lightning.

It was so sudden, so surreal that Reese didn't even think to reach for his lasgun until it was far too late.

Bursting from the dust and destruction of the tower like some kind of horrible wraith, a horned creature with tattered robes that seemed to be as ancient as Terra itself emerged, its hands crackling with energy and eyes burning with that same intensity that the Xenos from before wielded.

"Shoot it!" someone yelled out, and that stirred the shocked troopers into action. They grabbed at their rifles and took careful aim, but it was too little and far too late.

The robed creature raised both its arms in a collection of black light that pooled into a sphere of utter blackness. Only a few lasgun shots managed to connect amidst the confusion, burning against its body, but the floating creature paid the deadly lasers no mind.

It opened its palms, and released all the terrible forces that had been building up in one single motion.

It felt like a sandstorm had been brought to the rooftop straight from the bowels of a deathworld. Reese felt his rifle get torn from his grip by a gale-force wind, and his helmeted head slammed against the ground hard enough to make his head spin and introduce a dent or two. Ziege wasn't so lucky, the nearby officer being dragged against the rooftop and into a sharp girder of metal that impaled him straight through the eyes and into his brain. He didn't even have time to scream when he died.

Many other Guardsmen did, though. Reese struggled to get to his feet, and was promptly dissuaded as a chunk of rebar smacked him in the ribs and broke most of them, causing him to howl in pain as he fell flat on his back. Another Guardsman in front of him fared much worse, a particularly sharp piece of armor plating from a destroyed tank flying through the air and slashing at him like an oversized knife, spilling his intestines. They didn't even hit the floor, the bloody strings of his organs dragged away by the tornado-like winds as he yowled in sheer agony.

Then the Xenos reappeared. Too many to count, of all kinds.

The clawed ones appeared, and with no resistance facing them and no distance from their targets, they commenced a slaughter that no witnesses would forget for the rest of their very short lives.

One stuck its ridiculously sharp claws into the guts of the wounded Guardsman from earlier. He kicked and pounded at the offending alien through sheer will and adrenaline, even as it bodily lifted him into the air—then stuck its other pair of claws into his eye sockets and clawed downwards.

The artificial maelstrom at least had the mercy to force his head to turn away even as it made his chest pulse with a horrible sensation. Reese didn't get to hear the _ccrrrrschick!_ of the Xeno tearing its boney appendage downwards, ending the poor Guardsman's suffering.

Very quickly though, they turned their attention to him.

For all his tactical mistakes and inability to sense a trap, Reese did ascend to the rank of Captain for a reason. His combat knife was out in and in his hands in a flash, and the first Xeno that came near him had no less than three different wounds on its neck and chest area by the time it was even close to his body. Black liquid leaked out of the punctures like some sort of perverse fountain, and it collapsed unmoving on the ground.

The second was much faster.

It pounced on him with a ferocity Reese never anticipated, and smacked the blunt side of its claws against his head. The captain felt a brief stinging sensation in his face, before he became suddenly aware of a very warm and very... _wrong_ feeling in his chest. Reese didn't dare to look at it, consumed with the shadow that loomed over him and seemed to blot out what little light was left in the sandstorm of debris.

Standing over him with those same intense but impassive spotlights of eyes, was the floating creature that had summoned the storm. It spared him a glance for only a moment, and Reese glared back for all he was worth. It was a frakking abomination and was going to burn in the deepest most hellish pits of the Warp was what he wanted to say, but he couldn't even open his mouth. All he felt was a bubbling sensation on his tongue and an inability to move his jaw.

The creature floated away, and the Xenos went right back to their meal.

As Captain Howard Reese lay bleeding out on the ground while a pair of Thralls tore him apart, the last thing he ever saw was the sight of the sorcerer Xeno, lazily drifting towards the Governor's Palace.

It was too much to bear, and he closed his eyes for the last time.

* * *

 _Calderis, Present Day_

The battle had turned into a complete and utter shitshow from the start, and that was putting it mildly.

Elariel grunted with effort, prying the unruly Knight's sword off her staff and delivering a slash infused with enough of her Psyker energy to leave the distinct scent of charred ozone and burnt Hive flesh lingering in the air.

On the plus side, as time went on her powers were coming back. Barely a day ago, she had all but lost all hope of their return. Even now, though Elariel could hardly see a few feet in front of her, her skills with a blade hadn't diminished at all. Supplemented with a few other tricks like her returning foresight and other combat-related abilities, and she was back to being an immensely powerful combatant, easily able to fight a small army.

On the down side, there was a lot more than just a small army, and her powers were still only a shadow of what they once were. Two things she was constantly being reminded of.

Advancing on her position from across the street, two Acolytes opened fire with their bony weapons, the purple Void bolts missing her by millimeters and giving the ground a few new craters. At the same time, she raised a hand, concentrating on delving into the powers of the Warp, channeling it into a single destructive force...

And with an ear-splitting _BOOM!_ and a flash of blinding light, a lightning bolt shot off her fingertips and flash-fried the pair of ranged Hive infantry. They didn't even have time to spasm from the lethal display of electricity, turning into blackened dust that evaporated into the night sky immediately.

Unfortunately, it landed her the attention of what must have been a crowd of twenty or so Thralls that immediately spotted her and began their incessant shrieking not a second later.

Elariel raised her staff and put one foot on the almost broken concrete barricade she used to be hiding behind. If she could jump far enough to get behind the swarm-

Then a mechanical whine filled the air, followed shortly by the Guardian flying off a rooftop on a levitating two-pronged vehicle. He leapt off at the last second while firing one of his weapons, sending the rider-less vehicle tumbling into the crowd of Hive. It didn't do much damage, but the Thralls at the forefront gave a frightened shriek as the vehicle pushed them back.

He was joined not a moment later by a few of the Dire Avengers that had split off to follow him, who offered a barrage of Shuriken rounds to the horde of Hive infantry. The last of the Thrall horde fell victim to the deadly paper-thin discs, shrieking all the while.

The Guardian jogged over to her, pausing once only to lob a glowing orange grenade into a building. The shrieking from the Hive who were incinerated by it almost drowned out his question once he caught up to her. "Has your team located Veldoran yet?!"

She shook her head, exasperated. "No, but I felt the presence of another Psyker somewhere by the ammo storage on the southern side of the base. We were going to investigate it but the Hive cut us off."

He nodded, rifle disappearing in a flash of white light, replaced by the outdated-looking but still lethal sniper rifle he was so fond of. "Where's the ammo dump in relation to here?"

Then the ground around them began to form small craters, and they both managed to duck just barely in time, avoiding the majority of bolter rounds headed their way. Elariel dropped to the ground and rolled—arriving behind a small concrete barricade. A second later and the Guardian was there too, with quite a few scorch marks on his armor as well.

"I think you know the answer to that," she muttered, trying to see with her inner Eye rather than her recovering eyesight.

The Warp was a treacherous ocean to navigate to begin with, and having her own abilities clouded by this supposed 'Darkness' only made it harder. Still, past the maelstrom of emotion and turbulent thoughts that made up the Warp, Elariel could still _feel_ her way through it. Past their bogged-down position, down the beaten dirt road and a hundred meters south. There lay the familiar malicious entities of the Warps. Those who had pledged themselves to serve Chaos Undivided and sow death and destruction for their own personal gain.

"In the large gated building directly south of here," she said, making sure her words could be heard even as the explosive bolter rounds detonated and ricocheted all around them, the Guardian occasionally taking a knee to fire back with his own weapon. "At least six Chaos Space Marines, plus many more minor servants of Chaos. Mostly corrupted Guardsmen."

"Nothing we can't deal with," he replied brusquely, a sentiment she agreed with. "If you can get Ronahn to suppress them for a few seconds, we can begin advancing down the street while the rest of your soldiers move to help pin them down."

Before she could even give her response, more shrieks filled the nighttime air. It was quickly becoming a sound that she was detesting more and more by the minute. The Guardian didn't seem to be much more patient than her, sighing as his current weapon disappeared. "Where from?" he asked her, switching back to his automatic rifle, plans of assault firmly delayed.

Elariel made herself ready to peer through the Warp again to see the Hive deployments, feeling herself immersed in the turbulent tides of the Warp, but still remaining afloat through her experience as a Farseer. She 'looked' for the encroaching hostiles, feeling for their presence in the sea of chaotic emotions.

And then her powers completely fizzled out and left her blind.

The Farseer had only one second to be completely and utterly puzzled before her inner Sight came back, and she saw the Hive forces completely surrounding them. "All around us!" she shouted in alarm, coming back to reality.

Her companion swore, his hands lighting up with his strange brand of energy that seemed the antipathy of the Darkness. "Go into the buildings and make your way south, I'll see if I can regroup with you in-"

The wall directly behind them exploded outwards in a shower of dust and debris, some of which slammed into the Guardian and sent him tumbling away. More worringly though, were the three glowing yellow eyes and far too many teeth built into an armored head that emerged from the shadows and dust like a monster straight out of hell. A Knight.

"Scatter!" Glatisant shouted as he staggered to his feet, lobbing another fiery grenade. This one stuck to the Knight's leg, turning the darkened shadows a brilliant shade of orange. It paid the searing explosive device no mind, choosing instead to bring its cleaver-like sword down on top of the Farseer. If it weren't for her foresight, she would have died. Instead, the Eldar managed to dive away at the last possible second, coming up in a roll that saw her alive but not out of trouble yet.

The Knight pressed the attack, constantly moving and attacking to keep her from retaliating, although as the Solar grenade ate away at it like a corrosive liquid, there was a noticeable lag in its step. She continued to somersault like mad, snatching up her staff along the way from its abandoned position in the road.

The third time it swung at her, she parried with the bladed edge of her own weapon, and sent a swift kick to its badly-burnt leg, casting charred bits of bony flesh to the wind with a sickening crackle. It howled in pain, then promptly stopped when she stabbed it through the eyes.

There wasn't a moment to lose though. Just as she retrieved the weapon that had sunken into the creature's skull, more glowing yellow eyes peered at her through the dust. Some were short and shambling enough she could easily make them out to be Thralls, but more than enough were the bulkier and more menacing forms of Knights and Acolytes.

When the blasts of Void energy began to impact around her, Elariel decided that she had overstayed her welcome. Sending another bolt of lightning into their ranks, this one comparatively weaker and designed only to stun, she spun on her heel and sprinted into the building behind her, slamming the door on her way through. _South_ , she reminded herself, forcing a feeling of calm. She had to travel south.

The interior of the building didn't look much like a proper military outpost, more like a repurposed Monkeigh civilian dwelling. Her eyes swept the makeshift barracks for an exit, spying one in the form of an open door on the far end of the room.

Just as she began running towards it, a spotlight shined its way through the windows overlooking the street. Realizing they certainly didn't belong to anyone who was friendly, who picked up the pace, sprinting across the room even as primitive human weapons sent slug after slug towards her.

A quartet of bullets zipped by her head, burrowing themselves into a bunk on the left side of the room, but she paid them no mind. Even as the entire area around her lit up with dozens of impacts, every step was bringing her closer to the exit, and the hastily-directed gunfire was sloppy and not well-aimed. Those didn't worry her, the Hive behind her did.

The door was blasted apart, wooden splinters flying across the room as the patrolling servants of Darkness forced their way through. Gritting her teeth with exertion, Elariel slammed her staff into the ground, channeling as much raw force as she possibly could without passing out into the weapon.

It had the desired effect, creating a shockwave that made the foundation groan and the Acolytes at the other end of the room stutter in their aim. The next few shots went wide, failing to connect even as she made a break for the exit, head pulsing with pain from using her powers. Was the Hive's presence enough to force her abilities to fail? She pushed the pain to the back of her mind for now though, focusing on getting out.

The second she left, Elariel's mind went into overdrive as it tried to think of where to go from here. She was currently in the middle of an alley, with the street that was under enemy overwatch directly to her right. Since there was no way to take that option without being shredded by bolters, the only other way out was through the other buildings in the alley.

Elariel threw open the doors to another of the makeshift barracks, and found herself staring into the eyes of a Hive Wizard.

Almost instantaneously, her staff was raised for a diagonal slash to the chest, but the Wizard shot its arm out to grab her by the throat with a strength surprising for the frail creature, even as she struggled to remove its surprisingly strong grip.

Then it spoke, and she had no choice but to listen.

* * *

Fighting Thralls was a favored past time of all Guardians who survived their first fight with the abominations.

Which, admittedly, was a very small demographic.

Glatisant ducked, allowing the lesser Hive creature to miss him completely and stumble forward as its momentum betrayed it. Another pair of glowing claws reached out to tear him into bloody chunks, but he sidestepped it and retorted with a burst of Hard Light, the solidified photons ripping into the weaker creature and flaying it alive.

This was surprisingly easy, it turned out. It wasn't something he had time to notice earlier on in the night as he was fully absorbed with just trying to stay alive against two hostile factions, but now it was becoming apparent. There was something undeniable about the Hive he was facing, with their skin that bore no markings of any known Hive Sects. Something he and Ghost were beginning to suspect more and more as the fight raged on.

These Hive were weaker, both physically and in terms of coordination with the rest of their swarm. They didn't appear to be like the battle-hardened Hive he had fought at Earth and on the Moon. More like... proto-Hive organisms that weren't prepared to face down an experienced Guardian.

Although that wasn't saying much since an experienced Guardian was a threat to Hive demigods, but all the same, he felt... tricked, somehow. Like these were just fake Hive troopers and the real ones would show up at any moment—but they never did.

However it certainly matched his current theory that they were very new to this system. They certainly had the ferocity and spirit of the Hive, but lacked the combat skills of the ones back in Sol that were so effective. Ineffective leaders or they hadn't had time to properly setup their home dimension of Darkness like Crota had.

Just as he finished impaling another through the chest, the air seemed to _shift_ slightly, and Glatisant immediately dropped to his knees in pain as his head swam. It felt like the Darkness had washed over him and tried to attack his mind with such an intensity matched by none—but only for a moment. He got back to his feet gingerly, clutching the side of his head even as a ringing noise came at him from both ears.

Why weren't the Hive attacking him? Thralls surrounded him, their claws bobbing up and down in anticipation of tearing him apart, but they did nothing to act on their violent nature.

Ghost's voice buzzed in his mind, _Just now, did you hear something?_

He made to answer, and almost threw up against his own visor. The Guardian spent a few moments retching as the feeling of nausea left him for the second time that day, quietly wishing the Darkness would give him a break. The Thralls still made no move to attack, but he was recovering quickly.

 _Nope. I definitely felt something though,_ Glatisant answered, as he drew his weapons, head cleared. The Hive either had the courtesy not to attack him, or they were being forced not to. Either way, it was their loss.

Glatisant lashed out quick as a whip and wrenched a Thrall by its neck, pulling it into the wall of a building and causing a deep humanoid crack to appear in the side of the structure. If the muffled squealing was anything to go by, it was still alive. He frowned, and withdrew his machinegun.

Two shots later, and he freed the thing from its mortal coil as the crowd around him suffered a similar treatment. _What noise were you talking about and where was it from?_

 _South, in those buildings closest to the ammo dump. It didn't just feel like the Hive, it was like someone was bleeding Darkness into the environment from somewhere._

 _A Wizard,_ Glatisant surmised, earning a chirp of agreement from his Ghost. _And I bet if we leave it alone it's just going to keep spawning lesser Hive forms._

 _Most likely. I can highlight the nearest route to get there, but that involves crossing the street._

And right now, the street was no man's land.

It was under enemy overwatch from multiple sources. There were Acolytes patrolling the winding paths that lead up to the road, their Shredder rifles occasionally perforating anyone unwary enough to step into their line of fire. This, plus a series of Guardsmen and Chaos Space Marines who were sending what looked like a nonstop stream of bullets and lasers at anything and everything made crossing the street an entirely unappealing idea.

As the Warlock pondered the philosophical question of how to cross the street without becoming ventilated, he heard the scrape of a boot on dirt behind him. He spun around, machinegun raised and ready to fire before he eased his finger off the trigger after seeing who it was.

"Oh, hi Ronahn," he muttered offhandedly, looking back at the street. Maybe if he detonated a grenade against one of the smaller buildings and used the dust from the explosion as cover?

"Guardian. Have you seen our leader?" Ronahn greeted, eyes flickering between the him and the street.

"No actually," he answered honestly, eyes still probing the deadly corridor for safe passage. "We got separated after a fight with the Hive and Chaos forces. At this point she's probably in the general vicinity of the houses across the street."

Ronahn processed the information. "What do you propose we do about it?"

Glatisant thought for a moment before an idea struck him when he realized something critical: he now had sniper support. This was what he had been waiting for, actually. "Okay," Glatisant began, stepping back to where he and Ronahn were standing shoulder to shoulder. "I need you to get in position at a good vantage point and start shooting at the Chaos Space Marines guarding the ammo dump."

The Ex-Pathfinder looked at him strangely for that, as though he had suggested walking in front of a moving train. "Some of those are terminators. It would take a while to kill them," he clarified upon receiving a blank stare.

"That's fine. Just get their attention, it's all I need," Glatisant replied. hefting his sniper rifle once more. Sighing and seeing no other way forward, Ronahn followed the Guardian's request.

They only had one chance to get this done right, and considering how their assault had stalled in every other facet, this was the final effort.

Glatisant's sword carved a path down the street as streaks of light soared above him, pummeling the ranks of the Chaos Space Marines.

They wouldn't fail.

* * *

 _This thing was showing her visions, but of what exactly, Elariel couldn't tell. Maybe it was nothing right now, since all she could see were the vague wisps of something in the corner of her vision. Fleeting thoughts that were ultimately inconsequential and not pertinent to anything whatsoever._

 _There was a lurching feeling in her navel before everything righted itself, and the vision began proper._

 _There_ _were fires and smoke everywhere. All around her were the bodies of Eldar warriors, most of them Warlocks, charred beyond all recognition. Dozens of them surrounded her, and hundreds of spent Imperial shells were all around their bodies too. She reached out to test how real the recreation was, and found she could feel every rivulet of rain that adorned the brass, the warmth that still clung to it after being fired._

 _She let the casing slip through her fingers and grabbed her staff before doing a double take. It wasn't there anymore._

 _So, the Hive had brought her to the memory of her somewhat failed mission on Meridian a decade ago, without any weapons. Frankly she didn't see the purpose of it, and that made it that much more unnerving. She tried to summon her staff, to no avail. It was suppressing her powers in this dream-state._

 _Even in the dream, Elariel's spine shivered for a moment, and she knew why. One look behind her and..._

 _The Wizard floated lazily towards her, but it didn't look anything like how it had when she had stumbled into it by surprise in the Monkeigh military encampment. If she wasn't a Farseer with centuries of experience and mental discipline, she would have gasped._

 _Beautiful yellow and red folds from an opulent dress flowed from the creature's figure. None of the tears and holes were present anymore, all part of the same flawless cut of fabric. Against the backdrop of a grey, half-destroyed city sector it stood out like a sore thumb. So vibrant against the monotone landscape the Wizard was impossible to ignore._

 _Ensemble aside, something had changed in the Wizard as well. It was still a bony and angular creature, but it seemed so perfect, to say the least. There were no chips or dents in its chitinous skin, its claws were clean and exactly the same length, and it looked almost sterile in its cleanliness._

 _It hovered in front of her, the only indication it was moving being a slight rhythmatic movement of shuffling of its robes where its legs would have been rubbing against the fabric. Its eyes, like glowing sigils stared at her, waiting for her input._

 _She obliged. "Who are you?" Elariel asked with a trace of hostility in her voice._

 _"We?" it asked her, drawing up a hand to gesture upon itself. It spoke in a tone that seemed to originate from its helmeted head but echoed in her skull after being spoken. "We are the Hive."_

 _"I know exactly what you are," Elariel replied, idly noting that this one apparently didn't have a name. "That is your race's name. I was asking about you."_

 _"What I am does not matter, this is just a shell," it replied, words ringing softly with an exotic beauty that Elariel couldn't quite place, but it didn't charm her like it should have. She shuddered lightly, and redoubled her efforts at glaring._

 _"And this... meeting?" Elariel asked, speaking the word with a completely unsubtle undercurrent of animosity and snark. "I suppose you brought me here for more than just a polite chat?"_

 _It chuckled, a low sound that didn't fit with the regal and almost fragile appearance of the Wizard. Shivers ran up the Eldar's spine, it was a sound that was wholly and utterly wrong, and didn't deserve to be heard. "That I did," its voice all but purred out, making her cringe. "We have much to discuss, Farseer of_ _Ulthw_ _é."_

 _"Such as?" Elariel asked, keeping civil despite her every instinct telling her it was time to fight._

 _"Do you know why you came here? To... Calderis?" it asked her softly, rolling the human word off its tongue like it was an obscenity. Normally Elariel would have sympathized, but the thing in front of her was not like her in the worst of ways._

 _"I am aware of what I do, do not presume otherwise," she almost snarled._

 _The Wizard looked at her... pityingly? "No. No you do not. You came here seeking someone, yes?"_

 _Elariel felt something that was quite simply, wrong arise in her gut. "What are you talking about?"_

 _"I have seen all there is to see of you, Elariel. And I know exactly why you're here," it answered, and suddenly it was right next to her, bony appendages of shining white carapace glowing in the twilight. "Could it be for... this?" it asked, waving an arm forward._

 _Elariel failed to stifle a gasp, and she almost failed to keep from vomiting in disgust. Veldoran, an accomplished Warlock who was the veteran of countless battles and one of the greatest Warlocks_ _Ulthw_ _é had ever seen, was right in front of her._

 _And he was all but unrecognizable in the way he was presented, the only indication it was him being the flickering light of his presence in the Warp. She almost gasped again at how pathetic it was. Like the Guardian after leaving the Webway. So fragile, alive by impossible means._

 _His once immaculate sigils and robes were warped and bent at every angle. Blackness like some form of cancerous tar clung to most of his body, making him look semi-bloated and afflicted by some horrific curse. Even one of his helmet's optics were dimmed, consumed by the Darkness itself._

 _"I am not unfair, and am willing to make you an offer," the Wizard said suddenly, breaking Elariel out of her horrified stare._

 _"What..." she ground her teeth in a mix of fear, revulsion, and sheer unadulterated rage. "What did you do to him."_

 _It shrugged in a way that pissed her off to the highest degree. "I gave him the same offer I gave you."_

 _"Which is?" she demanded._

 _"Quite simple. Surrender yourself to me, and I will leave be the things you care about," it replied. "Your critical mission will be successful, and your Craftworld saved. All you have to do is give up."_

 _"That's a solution?!" she yelled, her training and mental conditioning failing her and giving way to her anger. "And you expect me to consider it even for a moment?"_

 _"Why not?" it asked her, now behind Ronahn, placing its clawed hands upon his shoulders. "You know for a fact many of you will die on your journey. You know what will befall the Guardian. If you want to save Veldoran you know what you have to do."_

 _"It's not a solution," Elariel growled. "This... this isn't even a deal. This is some kind of poor attempt at a trick."_

 _"You are correct, it is not a solution," it replied. "It is an option. I would suggest you consider it. Veldoran certainly did."_

 _Elariel felt her rage give way to hurt at that for a few seconds. Had Veldoran truly given himself to this... thing hoping it would save them? It wouldn't have been entirely unlike him, to sacrifice the few so that the many could survive. And with her mission vital to_ _Ulthw_ _é, no, the sector's survival, then that meant her only other voice was-_

 _Wait._

 _She glared balefully at the Wizard, even as it continued to float impassively behind Ronahn, awaiting her reply. Her fists balled up and shook silently before she gave her reply._

 _"You are a con, a monster, and a living embodiment of everything that should be destroyed," Elariel said coldly, the Wizard not flinching. "You are a disgrace and a black spot on this galaxy. Now give me back my friend or I will tear your entire race down until the galaxy never so much as remembers your name."_

 _No noise. Not even wind. Only ashes slowly drifted down around them in a slow display of grey._

 _The Wizard let out a rattling noise that might have been a sigh. "You Eldar are all the same."_

 _Even in this place, she was faster._

 _Elariel darted forward, concentrating purely on moving in a dead-on sprint. The Wizard scarcely had time to raise its claws before the Farseer jumped high and delivered a flying kick straight to its head. The force of impact was enough to make her recoil from the pain in her foot, but it clearly hurt the Wizard more. It tumbled backwards, brushing against the ground as Elariel grabbed Ronahn._

 _Now far the hard part. She breathed in, ignoring the ashes. They weren't real. She reached out to the Warp, even as it fizzled and failed the first few times before she succeeded in her effort._

 _"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"_

 _The Wizard caught Elariel in a full-body tackle, firmly interrupting her efforts and planting itself on her chest, pinning her down. It howled like a wounded banshee as it scratched at her helmet._

 _Sparks filled her vision as the razor-sharp appendages ate away at her helmet. Elariel felt a painful sting on her cheek, and she only barely managed to block its next attempts with her forearm, which also received a round of slashes. These ones drew just as much blood, and Elariel steeled herself before she headbutted the Wizard for all she was worth._

 _It fell back, but not for long. Head broken inwards from force of impact of her kick and impromptu attack, but still alive._

 _It screeched in pain and feral rage, and charged forward. Elariel tried to push herself to her feet to no avail, but Veldoran stopped her._

 _His steps were short and stumbling, but he grabbed the Wizard by the waist. It gave an indignant cry, and then he suplexed the Hive creature and slammed its head into the ground._

 _"Hurry," he gurgled, sounding like he was holding in a mouthful of oil._

 _Elariel chose to agree through her actions rather than words. She turned her attention back to the Warp. There was a reason why Psykers of any kind never under any circumstances travelled through the Warp without even one of the Monkeigh's Gellar Fields to protect them. Daemons were more than enough of a danger to make it impossible._

 _But she was out of options. One more try, Elariel forced a gate to the Warp to open, purple lightning and dust gathering all around her as she did all she could to make a gateway big enough for the both of them. Veldoran leaned heavily on her, and she felt magnitudes more exertion than she normally would from this type of display of her powers._

 _But she was going to succeed. She had t-_

 _"THERE IS NO WAY OUT OF THIS PLACE, LITTLE ELDAR," the not quite-dead Wizard shrieked suddenly, getting back up and flying forward like it was possessed._

 _"Go!" she shouted, and Veldoran managed to obey, stumbling through the makeshift portal. The Warp sucked them in, and Elariel immediately tore open a gateway to the material world as quickly as she could before a Daemon or worse found them._

 _"THERE IS NO WAY OUT."_

 _The real world appeared in front of them. It was only a portal to the same room she had found the wizard in, but right now it looked like a gateway to paradise._

 _Elariel grabbed Veldoran and leapt with all her might. The Wizard's howls faded away to nothing._

* * *

 **A/N: Three guesses as to what that intro bit was about**

 **So much stuff has happened and now I'm busy basically every day of the week, so as it turns out, that means I'm going to be updating even less than I said I was. Oops. I'm really sorry again that this took so long. Hopefully future ones don't but if they do, well, my fault for promising you guys constant updates and failing.**

 **Well at any rate I hope you guys enjoyed reading this. Reviews are always welcome because I like to hear what ya'll think of what I'm doing. You guys take have a good day.  
**


	13. Discontinuation and Bad Ending

And I'm back, hello again everyone.

I know I'm going to upset some people with this, but I came to this decision after a lot of thought. Firstly, I'm not going to continue the story as is. I didn't realize it at the time but I wrote myself into a corner which, barring plot induced stupidity to the highest degree I could not save what I had written without turning the story into a pile of shit.

Plus I'm not particularly proud of my writing as it is. So instead I'm going to rewrite the whole thing, it'll have some new characters, some old, and it'll be slightly better than the last iteration. Featuring all the new lessons I learned about writing!

But I am sorry about being gone and not writing for like, half a year. I was dealing with a lot of emotional problems and every time I wrote my heart wasn't in it.

I think I'm just going to leave this story up since a few of you liked it, and create a new one shortly thereafter.

Speaking of rewrites, I'm also rewriting _These Vagabond Shoes_. My writing sucked there too.

In the meantime, stay tuned for the rewrite. Coming: eventually

Anyways, since I don't like leaving loose ends even if I abandon them, here's the bad (non-canon) ending to _The Fateless_!

* * *

The ground quaked while the air above it rippled with latent heat from the bombardment, every dusty _scrunch_ of his footfalls reminding Eliphas of his victory.

There was a distant rumble and for a moment the champion of Chaos considered the possibility that there were yet more Imperial forces that had survived before he brushed the matter aside. As far as he was concerned, whatever minor artillery pieces that had survived the _Carrion_ 's assault, if there were any, were in no shape to counter him now.

Not to mention the ensuing warp-storms.

As he stepped across the once-grand palace that had born witness to a slaughter the likes of which Meridia had never seen Eliphas breathed in. Char, gunpowder, expended promethium, and above all else, the quiet stillness of billions of harvested souls.

The rumbling noise came back, and this time he spared it a glance, only to find it was just another skyscraper. Massive chunks from its superstructure and supporting buildings caking off of it, and it collapsed in on itself in a shower of rubble and dust.

Eliphas grunted appreciatively and continued onward. Only one thing left to do now.

He stopped midway through his stride and turned at the sound of something else, much closer. The scraping of metal against rock.

From out of a small mountain of ruined barricades and the front of the palace, a lone figure staggered out, and fell to its knees after taking a few steps forward.

Without realizing it, Eliphas had narrowed his eyes. This one, that had dared to come so close to utter ruination of his plans, and all but flaunted any of their plans to slay him, had survived.

…Scratch that thought from earlier. He now had _two_ things to take care of before he was finished.

Flicking his wrist, Eliphas's sword appeared in his hands as he approached the 'Savior'.

 _Some savior he turned out to be._

Clearly, the Guardian wasn't in the best shape. His pure black and white armor that had all but perpetually remained immaculate was now burnt and tattered. That shining sigil on its front was dented and pierced beyond recognition, as well as leaking a stark white fluid that the Guardian failed to stop from bleeding. One of its legs and both arms were dotted with blackened marks that gouged deep holes into the robes, the mark of the Bloodletters, Eliphas noted with a small sense of satisfaction.

It finally lifted its head up, helmet covered in a web of cracks and dents, and though he was half-dead and probably not all that lucid either, Eliphas could feel the Guardian's eyes on him.

There was a tense silence save for the crackling of dying fires, and then the Guardian charged, bringing with him a sword that was caked in blood and dirt but still shined with lethality.

It was more of a leap, really. Born from what, Eliphas didn't know. Desperation, hatred maybe?

 _It will be a shame. He would have been a fine lieutenant._

And as Eliphas brought his blade across Glatisant's midsection in a lightning-quick motion, he had an idea.

Light sprayed from the wound, and the Guardian fell to the ground, his helmet impacting on a piece of rubble with enough force to pop off the glass of his visor. He twitched for a moment, reaching for his sword that lay not a few feet away from him, only for his limbs to fail to respond.

 _All your 'holiness' and still you fail._

Eliphas grinned at the display. "I expected more from you, son of the Traveler."

No response but raggedy breaths that sounded like a series of short gasps. Whether his lungs were filling up with blood or the air was too toxic to breathe, he didn't particularly care.

Gauntleted hands reached further, fingers succeeding in scraping against the blade's hilt but failing to pull it closer. "At first I had thought of you as another brave fool, like the Seer, or the human meddler," Eliphas said, each step bringing him closer to his downed opponent.

Still no reply. So be it then.

 _He could have been so much more._

I agree, Eliphas thought, and hoisting the Guardian into the air by the throat with his free hand, he continued.

"But I began to see there was more than defiance and your blind faith to a corpse-god, Glatisant."

Even as death, _real_ death drew nearer to the Sunsinger, the Guardian managed a glare filled with more hatred than Eliphas had ever witnessed. He _squeezed,_ maintaining his chokehold even as whatever retort the Guardian had come up with died on his lips.

Eliphas's sword began to ripple like tar and oil.

"Let it never be said that I am not a merciful servant of Chaos," he stated, noting the fear and abhorrence in his captive's eyes. "For I have offered you a place by my side once before, and you refused.

Glatisant's limbs finally responded to him, a fact Eliphas became aware of when a fist as hot and as luminous as a small star smashed against his head, again, and again, to no avail.

 _Feeble, but it can be fixed._

The sword had finished now, black tendrils like small hands seeming to reach out of it as if to escape their confinement as the Guardian's strikes became faster and wilder. "Now Guardian, let me make you an offer," Eliphas smiled as he plunged the bar into the Guardian.

The last coherent thing Glatisant ever did was to cease struggling and stare straight into his eyes with a haunted look that said _what have you done._

And then his face disappeared in a blanket of blackness.

As the fires faded from his skin, Glatisant felt more alive than he had ever before.

 _The old Guardian is dead._

His hands came alive in a blinding display of purple lightning and pure, unadulterated _power._ And as Eliphas released his hold, the New One fell with enough force to crack the ground, and it let loose a roar that shook the world.

 _The new one is just getting started._

* * *

 _The End (kinda)_


End file.
